Closer, a Theresa and Fox fanfiction
by SandraDeee
Summary: Trapped in a loveless marriage, Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald Crane finds herself drawn to her step-son Fox. By day, they are enemies; by night, they are lovers. After all, as the old saying goes, "Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer."
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The faintest hints of the impending morning began to glow in the night sky. Like clockwork, he stirred, trying not to disturb his sleeping lover.

He knew he must get back to his room before the household awoke.

Slowly, he began to slide out of bed but stopped when he felt her small hand on his back. "Don't go," she whispered, a subtle plea contained within those two words.

He stopped, turned toward her, and stroked her face. "It's for the best. They can't find me here." His lips caressed hers, an unspoken urgency in his kiss. "But tonight—_tonight_ I'll be back."

Her heart lurched. At first, the secrecy of their relationship had been exhilarating, and it bonded them in a way that few could understand. Yet as their relationship deepened, that very secrecy, which she had at first prized, began to wear on her. She was, by her very nature, something of an exhibitionist. Whatever she felt or thought, she made known.

But now, she was in love, and she couldn't tell a soul.

_Not even him._

She watched as he pulled on a robe to cover his nakedness. She loved to look at him; he had a beautiful body. But more than anything, she loved being close to him, being held by him.

And so continued the pattern. He left her, taking with him a piece of her heart each time.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Breakfast in the Crane Mansion was a come-and-go affair. Rarely did members of the extended family dine together. Yet on this morning as Theresa Crane descended the stairs and entered the living room where a buffet style breakfast waited prepared, she found herself with plenty of company.

"The hired help ate hours ago, Theresa." Julian Crane didn't even look up from his newspaper as he hurled his insults at his wife.

Theresa glared at him, but before she could say anything, his ex-wife, Ivy, piped up, "Can't you see Theresa didn't get enough sleep last night? _Again._ You know, Julian, I think she's making a cuckold out of you."

Julian's face contorted into a look of disgust as he peered over his newspaper at Ivy. "You would recognize the signs, wouldn't you, my faithless ex-wife?" His gaze fixed on Theresa. "More likely you're kept awake at night trying to decide how to lure me to you bed, isn't that right, Pet?"

"I'd say it's more likely I'm kept awake by saying prayers of thanks that I don't have to put up with either of you for much longer," Theresa replied as she turned over a glass on the service cart and began to pour orange juice.

Ivy scoffed. "You? Talk to God? More likely you're making a deal with the devil."

Theresa scratched her chin, as though in deep thought. "Um…nope. I don't think you and I have any deals going on between us, Ivy."

Julian roared in laughter. For as much as he lamented the day he married Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald in a drunken debacle, he hated even more the day he married Ivy Winthrop and saddled himself with his shrew of an ex-wife.

"Julian!" Ivy scolded before returning her attention to Theresa. "You go ahead and throw everything you've got at me, you little tramp, but know this. Your days as Mrs. Crane are numbered. I am the only legal Mrs. Crane!"

"Not according to the_ legal_ system, Ivy. You are Ms. Winthrop." Theresa took a grape and threw it in her mouth. "The sad thing is you're so used to your mantra, you're starting to believe your own lies."

"You would know about lies, wouldn't you?" The deep voice came from the doorway. Nicholas Foxworth Crane casually strolled into the living room, exuding confidence. "You're an expert. Right, Step-mommy?"

Theresa's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the new-comer to the morning repartee. She hated Fox's title for her almost as much as she hated the fact it was an accurate one.

Julian and Ivy's youngest son was actually older than Theresa by four years. How strange it was to be younger than her step-son.

"I told you not to call me that."

She reached for a bagel but was stunned when Fox snatched it from her hand before taking a bite of it himself.

"That's the beauty of broken homes. I don't have to listen to what you say, _Step__-__mommy_."

"You shouldn't talk with your mouth full."

"And you just shouldn't talk," he shot back.

Ivy grinned. "_My _son! I'm beginning to like the man you've become more and more, Nicholas."

Fox rolled his eyes. "You only claim me when it suits your purpose."

"That's right, my boy. Let her eat those words. Speaking of eating, I've arranged a little outing for you tonight. Nothing elaborate, but if you're lucky, you might get some tit-for-tat, if you know what I mean." Julian winked crudely, proud of what he considered his clever double entendre. "Mary Elizabeth Brewington of the Boston Brewingtons. I hear she's polished on the outside but a real tiger in bed."

"That would be your first consideration, wouldn't it?" Theresa replied, a smirk crossing her features. "What _would _Howard Brewington think if he heard you talking about his daughter like that, Julian? I hear he used to box when he attended Harvard and that he has a mean temper…"

Julian ignored his wife's comment. "I wouldn't want you to make the same mistake I did, son. Some day, you'll get married. Though it won't be for love, there's no reason you should be saddled with a frigid, ice queen or a taco princess."

Fox gripped the juice pitcher. "I hardly need you setting social engagements for me, Father. If I want a woman, she's mine with very little resistance."

Ivy grimaced. "Must you two talk like…like…"

"Crane men, Ivy? You know what you got when you married me. Theresa does, too. Why sugarcoat matters?" Julian shrugged.

"You're so sure of yourself," Theresa said shaking her head. "Why do you think any woman would want you, Nicholas? You're arrogant, crude, not exactly husband material."

"Well, I do have a rather sizeable…"

"Bank account?" Theresa interrupted. "Too bad you never earned any of it."

"Damn. If it isn't the golddigger calling the kettle black? Mrs. Crane, _step__-__mommy dearest_, how exactly did you make your fortune? Oh, that's right. You married my father."

"I rue the day."

"But not enough to release your greedy grip on the Crane fortune."

Theresa crossed her arms. "Unlike some around here, I actually earn my keep. Julian, when was the last time you set foot in Crane Industries or did anything except smoke your expensive cigars and chase your cheap woman in ridiculous costumes? And Ivy, don't you have anything better to do than follow Sam Bennett around all day like a dog in heat?"

"I will not be talked down to in my own home!"

"It's my home, Ivy, and you are a guest here. Don't forget that." Theresa's gaze set on Fox. "And you—don't even get me started on you. All your life you've had everything handed to you on a silver platter. You had the opportunity to attend the best schools, go anywhere, do anything that you like, and all you've done is act like a spoiled brat. Have you even ever stepped foot in Crane Industries? Do you know what it's like to work for anything?"

"Don't be condescending, Theresa. Of course I know what it's like to work."

"Charming your college dean or bedding the prime minister's daughter doesn't count as work, Nicholas."

"Careful, Step-mommy, you're going to get indigestion from choking on those words."

"We'll see." She walked to the telephone, and picked up the receiver. "Yes, Charles, this is Mrs. Crane. Please have the car brought around for me. Thank you."

Julian sneered. Saying pleasantries to the hired help—how plebeian.

"I have work to do today. Oh, and don't waste your time plotting ways to bury a hatchet in my back. It's never worked yet."

"If at first you don't succeed…" Ivy smirked.

"Good one, Ivy," Julian opined.

Ivy smiled, self-assured. "Yes, I thought so."

Theresa picked up her purse, ready to leave the den of vipers. "Don't choke on the rest of your breakfast. I'm out of here."

She began to walk past Fox, but he gently grabbed her arm.

"I'm coming with you." He spoke with determination, steely, unmovable.

"I don't think so, Nicholas."

His voice softened somewhat as he began to put his Crane charm to the test. "Come on, Theresa. I need a lift to the office. I have a job interview today. And weren't you just taking me to task for not doing anything?"

Theresa's eyes widened, surprised by his words. Strange how he'd not mentioned anything about this before…

"You're actually _interviewing_ at Crane Industries? Whatever happened to good old-fashioned nepotism?"

"Actually, Grandfather might hand me over to you." As if to accentuate his point, Fox reached for her hand and lightly trailed his fingertips along the palm.

Almost as soon as his skin made contact with hers, Theresa felt warmth invade her soul. She hesitated for only a moment before shrinking from him. "Then you might as well stay here because I am not hiring you, Nicholas Crane."

"I'll convince you otherwise."

"I would rather spend the day playing dress-up with Julian than hire you for _anything_."

He watched her with amusement. "What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid of anything."

"Then keep your friends close and your enemies…."

"Closer," she finished.

"I'm coming with you."

Theresa opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. "Fine. You can come. But don't expect any special treatment. Believe me when I say that I'll speak with whomever is doing the interviewing. You'll get the job only if you're the best person for it."

"Fair enough."

"Nicholas, before you go, shall I tell Howard that you'll be escorting Mary Elizabeth to the country club gala tonight?"

Fox groaned. "Father, I …"

"The worst thg that can happen is things don't go well with her and you have to put a little effort forth to pick up a delicious little waitress or something."

"I think you should do it." Theresa piped in. "Mary Elizabeth would be so perfect for your function."

"Well, when you put it like that," Fox murmured. "After all, I never could resist a beautiful woman."

* * *

Charles Finnigan stepped out of the late model Mercedes he brought around front for Mrs. Crane. In his twenty-eight years of service with the Crane family, he had seen it all. Julian and Ivy's near-violent arguments, the womanizing, and potential scandals swept under the rug. He kept a stiff upper lip, never commenting to the press or even his family about those things which he saw and heard.

Yet as he watched Mrs. Crane—_how strange it was to think of little Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald like that!_—emerge from the front door with Nicholas Crane, he found it extraordinarily difficult to hold his tongue. He had a soft spot for Pilar's daughter; she was a few years younger than his own and still so incredibly naïve, particularly in comparison to the other Cranes. From time to time, Charles heard the one-sided conversations Julian had with his father on the phone when he chauffeured Theresa's husband, and they made him squeamish. Theresa Crane was in for the fight of her life.

"Good morning, Charles," Theresa said with a smile.

Charles inclined his head. "Good morning, Mrs. Crane. Your keys." He began to place them in the palm of her hand, but Fox grabbed them.

"Ready to go?"

"Nicholas Crane, give those back this instant!" Theresa scolded.

"Begging your pardon, Sir, but Mrs. Crane is the one who…"

Nicholas waved his hand in dismissal. "Don't worry about Mrs. Crane, Charles. Her bark is worse than her bite."

Her brown eyes locked on his. "You are unbelievable."

"Why, thank you."

"I didn't mean it as a compliment."

"Oh yes you did."

He lifted an eyebrow, an arrogant gesture that made her grimace all the more and forced her determination into high gear.

Theresa reached for the keys he held in his hand, but with his advantage of height, all he had to do was hold them beyond her grasp. That didn't stop Theresa for trying though. She stood on her tip-toes, quite a feat in high-heeled shoes, and tried to wrestle them from Fox's fingers. It would have been a brilliant plan had she been able to reach them. As it was, she could only grab hold of his forearm.

With his free hand, he trailed his fingertips down her side, a motion that made her gasp.

"You look more like my lover than my step-mother," he whispered in her ear.

Theresa immediately pulled back.

"Catch 'em off guard. Works every time," Fox said to Charles as he walked to the driver's side door and opened the door. He turned back to Theresa. "Coming?"

"I hate you," she muttered as she walked around to the passenger side and got inside, futilely attempting to pull together the shredded vestiges of her pride.

"Not half as much as I hate you," Fox shot back. He looked to Charles, whom he noted had not yet taken his eyes off them. Something in the older man's eyes made Fox wonder….

Did Charles know? No matter. He wouldn't say anything if he did. With a grin and a wink at the chauffeur, Fox got into the car and closed the door.

Charles wanted to snort. Oh, they put on a good act with their bickering, insults, and dirty looks, but only to those who were too wrapped up in their own miserable lives to see what lay beneath the surface.

"I don't know what he's up to, but I'm sure glad she ain't my daughter," Charles muttered before returning to the garage.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

It was a rare treat to get to see Fox in the sunlight, Theresa mused to herself as gazed upon the handsome man who sat in the driver's seat of the vehicle. His strong, tanned hands held the steering wheel with firmness. The sun cast its rays into the interior of the vehicle, shining upon his blond hair, giving him a near aura.

He was gorgeous. No doubt about it—and he knew he was gorgeous, too. Perhaps the confidence he exuded—some called it arrogance—was what she found so appealing. He was completely unlike others she had gravitated toward, yet she found herself inexplicably drawn to him.

They lived two existences, but how she found herself longing for circumstances to change.

By day, they were enemies. By night, they were lovers.

But which part of their duality would end first? Would they cease being enemies, at least to the outside world? Or would they cease being lovers?

Theresa focused again on his hands, the hands that had been all over her body the night before, the hands that, if she concentrated hard enough, she could imagine were still on her body.

Was she crazy to put herself in that situation with him?

She shook her head. She wasn't going to analyze their situation too much. At least, not right now. No, she intended to enjoy the few moments she had with him.

With that in mind, she reached across the distance that separated them in the car and rested her hand on the back of his neck. She ran her fingers upward, delving into his blond hair.

Fox groaned and looked at her from the corners of his eyes. "You make concentrating on the road hard, Resa. And other things hard, too."

"You have such a way with words," she commented playfully. "Of course, if it's too difficult for you to concentrate…" She began to pull away from him, but he grabbed her hand and held it in his own.

His fingers rubbed against hers, sending shivers down her spine.

She loved his hands.

"You were saying…?"

Theresa's eyes fluttered. "I don't remember."

"I have that effect on women," he said with a wink.

"You are such a jerk," she grinned.

"I learned from the best." Fox sighed, his playful tone changing to one more serious. "My mother and father aren't exactly models for pleasantness. How do you stand it, Resa?"

Theresa leaned her head against the back of the passenger side seat, settling against the plush leather. "How do _you_? You've had to deal with them all your life."

"But I grew up with them constantly at each others' throats, not at mine. But the way they team up against you…it makes me sick."

"_Nothing brings people together more than mutual hatred_."

"I just wish Henry Rollins didn't have to be so damn accurate."

Theresa closed her eyes. Four years ago, if anyone would have told her that she would be in her current situation, she would have thought them mad. She had planned her entire life down to whom she would marry, what the wedding would be like, where they would live afterward, and children's names, and it all revolved around Ethan.

Then reality set in.

The world in which Theresa lived was vastly different from the world the Crane family inhabited. But how she had once wished to be part of them!

She thought back to the foolish child who had been so gleeful when told by the fortune teller that she would sign her checks with a 'C.' She thought that meant she and Ethan were destined for one another. She never dreamed a liquor-induced stupor would lead to being Mrs. Julian Crane. And she never anticipated the repercussions that would follow.

They'd picked away at her very soul, the way a vulture picks at the bones of its prey. Everything she loved—Ethan, her child, her family's respect, everything—was lost to her.

Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald died, and from the ashes rose Theresa Crane.

She was a different woman, her innocence gone, her childhood dreams ripped away. But she embraced that woman, out of necessity, out of spite.

"Don't worry about me. They can't hurt me any more than they've already done. I have nothing left."

"Nothing?"

His voice had an edge to it, a difference Theresa immediately noticed.

"I'm sorry, Fox. I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

He shrugged it off. "Look, Resa, it really doesn't matter. We agreed to keep this thing between us casual."

"Right," she echoed. "No attachments."

He grinned. "At least none of the emotional kind. _Other attachments_…" his voice trailed off as he allowed himself the briefest of moments to let his eyes graze on her body.

He noticed the little things about her. The way she licked her lips, the rising and falling of her chest as she breathed, the way she tilted her head to reveal the length of her slender neck...

Fox forced himself to look away, to concentrate on the road, but he couldn't force himself to stop wanting her.

God, he wanted her right then and there! Each time was like the first, full of new discovery and unbelievable pleasure.

Truth be told, before he met her, he usually found more thrill in the chase than the actual sexual encounter. After sleeping with a woman once, he was rarely interested in her anymore.

Being with Resa was a completely different experience, though. She stirred sensations in him that he hadn't known with other women. It bewildered him, especially because he knew just how sexually naive she had been before they began meeting secretly.

It was that inexperience that cinched her story in his mind. His father had claimed that Theresa seduced him into marrying her, but after being with Theresa that first night, Fox knew his father to be a liar.

Fox still remembered how Resa blushed from head to toe when he told her how desirable she was. Hardly the reaction of a skilled seductress.

And yet she got to him more than the women he'd known who _were_ experienced.

The time they spent together had become about more than just sex. He told her stories, things about himself that he didn't share with others. Though she didn't know everything there was to know about him, she certainly knew more than anyone else. He trusted her in a way he had not allowed himself to trust anyone else, and she always kept him on his toes.

They laughed, teased each other, fell into an easy rapport. Resa held him accountable in a way that no one else dared, but rather than resent her for it, he appreciated it. For the first time in as long as Fox could remember, he looked forward to what the future held.

"You know, I thought you were going to scratch my eyes out when I called you step-mommy."

"Ugh. I hate it when you do that!"

"I know, and it shows. That's why I do it. Lends authenticity to our spats, don't you think?"

She laughed lightly, a sound that brought a smile to his face, as well. God, he loved her laugh.

"Between that and stealing my bagel, you're lucky you made it out of the room in one piece."

"I would rather have sunk my teeth into _you_, but since we had an audience I thought better of it. As it was, I was having a hard time keeping myself from pulling the pins out of your hair and burying my hands in it. God, Resa, it's beautiful. Wish you wouldn't always pull it back during the day." The corners of his mouth lifted as he thought to the night before, lying in bed with her, her long, dark hair falling across his chest.

"It's a more professional look. If I want to be taken seriously by others, I have to take myself seriously, and that includes appearances."

"Grandfather speaks highly of you. That's more than half the battle right there. I don't think he'd trade you for the rest of us put together.'

"He wouldn't think so highly if he knew the real me," Theresa sighed. "How much longer will they buy this act, Fox? Ivy looked at me this morning, and she could tell I'd not had much sleep. She mentioned me having a lover to Julian."

"Only to get under his skin. My father is quite the ladies man, so for his wife to cheat on him…"

Theresa wrinkled her nose and thought of Rebecca Hotchkiss, as well as the assortment of other women she'd seen come and go through Julian's bedroom in the last few months. "But it's perfectly acceptable for him to cheat on his wife?"

"Look, I didn't say it made sense."

"But you're not bothered by this, are you?"

"Why should I be?"

All his life, Julian Crane pressed the idea that women were there for the taking. It was their right as Crane men to pursue pleasure, whether in the bedroom or in the gameroom. Marriage was meant to be little more than a contract, a business arrangement, certainly not something based on genuine feelings or affection.

No, love was for the weak.

Or, at the very least, it made people weak.

Fox watched how love wore away at his mother, how disappointed and bitter she was during his childhood and remained to the day. Her love for Sam Bennett was a poorly kept secret. Fox also saw how his brother became a bumbling idiot at the very mention of the word love. He strung along two women, claimed to love each. And then there was Theresa who had pined away for a man who, in Fox's estimate, didn't deserve her devotion, and all in the name of love.

Love was definitely overrated.

And marriage? The mores of marriage were obviously constructed by an imbecile who had little imagination and only strove to keep others in order.

"Fox, when you get married someday, are you really going to marry for position and keep someone on the side?"

He shrugged. "I don't see myself getting married."

"You're the only Crane son. They _will _expect it."

Fox raised an eyebrow at the reminder of his change of stature in the family. It was still something of an adjustment to think of himself as the Crane heir. Ethan—perfect, dependable, boring Ethan—held that spot for so many years. The Cranes had lavished their attention and their hopes upon his bastard half-brother, leaving Fox to his own devices and exploits, troubling themselves to pay attention only when the Crane name was in danger of being tarnished.

"I've never been one to do what is expected. Why should I start now?"

Theresa grew frustrated with the conversation. "You're evading my question."

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice." His tone was cool, unnervingly cool, Theresa noted. He seemed so imperturbable.

Must be nice to be able to have that kind of control.

It was one of the things she admired in Fox Crane. It was also something she hated about him. He had a tough exterior, one that he allowed few people to crack. Theresa suspected that she knew him better than anyone else, but there was still so much to learn about him. And when he put up a wall, like he now did, it was near impossible. Still, that didn't deter her from her attempts.

"But I did, and I _am_ asking."

"Sex and love are not mutually exclusive. You know that, Resa. Every night, you

pull me inside of you. You touch me, you kiss me, but you don't love me."

Theresa's heart sank._ If only that were true._

"That answers my question. Your wedding vows would mean nothing to you."

"About as much as yours mean to you."

Theresa pulled away from him and looked out the window. "It makes all the difference in the world being married to the wrong person," she said quietly.

He could hear the hurt in just that simple statement. It bothered him, perhaps more than it should. "Let me ask you something."

"What's that?"

"Have you given more thought to the divorce?"

"I spoke with Woody Stumper day before yesterday."

"And?"

"He said, and I quote, 'I will anticipate, appreciate, and decimate any legal forthcoming challenges forthwith.'"

"And I believe he will, too." Fox's added dourly, "He made mincemeat of Ethan, but I can't imagine _that_ was too difficult."

Theresa winced at the sound of Ethan's name. Three months had passed since Ethan's wedding to Gwen, but the emotions were still raw. At least she had not been forced to watch Ethan and Gwen begin married life. The day after their wedding, they jetted off for an extended European vacation. Apparently, all the money concerns Gwen mentioned when she spoke of taking the job in New York and raising the child alone weren't really concerns at all.

No more thoughts of Ethan, she promised herself. That part of my life is done.

She cleared her throat. "So what's this about a job? I never took you for a working stiff."

"My, my, what is the world coming to? I'm actually aiming for respectability."

"I hardly know what to think."

"Well, gambling and tennis will only get a guy so far."

"Respectability, indeed. First a job. Next thing you know, you'll be asking Mary Elizabeth Brewington to marry you."

"It's one date, Theresa. You sound rather jealous for a woman who insisted upon it."

"I'm not jealous," she quickly protested.

"Right. And when you scratch your nails down my back I don't feel it," he chortled. "You _are _jealous. I can hear it in your voice."

"Believe me, Fox. I don't care what you do. You aren't committed to me. There are no obligations between us."

"So if I slept with her tonight, it wouldn't matter to you?"

"Are you planning on sleeping with her tonight?"

"No, I'm planning on sleeping with _you,_ tonight."

"Presumptuous, aren't you?"

"Would you prefer that I sleep with her instead? Come on, Resa. Just admit that you're jealous. That maybe you care, just a little."

_Of course I care, you arrogant jack ass! _

_You have set my world off its kilter, made me question everything about myself, and made me want so much more than I can ever have! _

But she could say none of that. What good would it do? Drive him away? Show her to be pathetic for once again wanting a man who didn't love her? No, she had enough. Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald would have spilled her heart out to Fox, but Theresa Crane would do no such thing.

"Aren't you the one who just reminded me that we agreed to keep this casual?"

"And are you happy with that arrangement?"

She crossed her arms. "I don't think that's a fair question."

"Why?"

"It just isn't."

His eyes narrowed. "It's a yes or no question, Theresa. It's black or white, no shades of gray."

"No, it isn't as simple as that. When you come to me at night, I can pretend there's no one else in the world but us. But when I look at us during the day, I just can't help but feel like what we're doing is wrong. Not just wrong, but dangerous."

"I thought you liked the danger."

She shook her head. "Maybe I did at first, but I never expected to feel….." her voice trailed off, her thought left incomplete. "Now I just hate this lying. I don't like to pretend that I hate you. I don't like lying to my family. And I'm scared, Fox."

"What do you think I'm going to do? Hang you out to dry, Theresa?"

"Ethan did."

"I'm not Ethan!"

He spoke with such ferocity that Theresa flinched. Gone was the aloof manner in which he normally spoke. His strong jaw clenched, his dark eyes were stormy.

She'd hurt him, she realized.

"Fox, I…"

"You know, Resa, you are beautiful in the moonlight. Hell, in the sunlight, I'm blinded by you. I mean it. I look at you, and I have to force myself not to stare. But I'm looking away now, and I suggest you do the same. You're not going to find an Ethan substitute with me, and I can't fix whatever is broken inside of you."

Theresa didn't know what to say. Nothing seemed adequate. "I'm not broken, and I don't want an Ethan substitute."

"No, you don't. You still want Ethan. Well, sharpen the claws, Step-mommy, because he'll be at the party tonight."

"Wh-what?"

"It's true. He and Gwen are returning from their honeymoon this afternoon. Just in time."

"I don't want Ethan," she repeated numbly.

"Great poker face, Resa, but I'm calling your bluff. You can't lie to a liar."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you were right. Perhaps I was being a bit presumptuous to say that I would be joining you tonight… or any night."

He was distancing himself, Theresa realized.

"Fox, please."

"Let me ease your guilty conscience, Theresa. We end now."


	4. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I began this story shortly after the character of Fox Crane came on the show back in 2002 (I think). It may be familiar to some of you who have read it on my website, so if you're getting deja vu, that is why. I decided that it would be a good idea to have the story archived in a central location, hence its posting here. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

**Chapter Three**

Fox's words stunned Theresa.

Even three hours, four cups of coffee, and half a box of tissues later, she sat in her office, stunned.

Three simple words: _we end now_. In and of themselves, they were harmless. Put them together, and they hurt.

Realistically speaking, she knew this day would come. Their relationship was, in truth, over before it even began. Circumstances insured that. Fox Crane was never hers to love, but she felt herself falling.

But knowing something was going to happen and living through it were two completely different matters.

Oh God, it hurt.

But she tried to shield him from the tumult of emotions she felt from his three simple words. She wanted to cry, plead with him to reconsider, or even smother him with kisses until he could see what they had was too good to just _end_.

She did none of those things.

When she heard his words, she slowly nodded and fought to keep her voice steady. If nothing else, she had her pride, hardened by her experiences with the Cranes, and she was determined not to cry in front of him.

"So it does."

The voice seemed alien to her, so cold. It couldn't have been hers. Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald didn't speak like that.

But Theresa Crane did.

Nothing else was said on the way to Crane Industries. They fell into an uncomfortable silence, the only sounds the gentle humming of the car's engine and the occasional bump in the road.

When they parted ways upon coming to a stop in the parking lot, Theresa squared her shoulders as she went in ahead of him and quickly sought the solitude of her office, though not before telling Trish to hold her calls.

She tried to muddle through the mountain of paperwork that waited on her desk, but nothing made sense to her; she was too consumed by Fox.

_You're not going to find an Ethan substitute with me, and I can't fix whatever is broken inside of you._

Had she tried to use him as a substitute for Ethan? Theresa had never considered it before. Fox and Ethan, though half-brothers, were complete opposites both in appearance and personality.

Fox certainly _thought_ she was using him for that purpose. Theresa still cringed when she thought of the hurt and anger in his voice.

Not meaning to, she did to Fox what people had been doing to him all his life.

She compared him to Ethan.

* * *

Nicholas Foxworth Crane felt like he'd spent the morning in Hell. 

The irony was that it had started so promisingly. A little verbal sparring with Theresa, trading sexual innuendos in the car, and just enjoying her company…

But if Resa wanted his half-brother, she could have him for all he cared.

After overhearing his mother speak—make that lament—with Rebecca Hotchkiss over the sad state of Ethan and Gwen's marriage, it wasn't an impossibility. So they were just figuring out what he'd known all along; Ethan wasn't so perfect, after all. Three months of marriage, and he was already looking to get out.

Things would go back to normal. Ethan would alternately pull Theresa to him and push her away. Gwen would shoot daggers with her eyes and turn on a dime. And Theresa would return to pursuing Ethan doggedly, making a fool of herself at every opportunity.

Fox wasn't sure he could watch the sordid drama unfold. It was a fait accompli that the ending would be the same. Theresa would have her heart broken, Gwen would make snarky comments, and Ethan would still be a dumbass.

Yes, the ending would be the same, but he could finally admit to himself that he wanted it to be different.

He'd actually been looking forward to the day when Resa's divorce was finalized, when they could appear in public together as equals, as friends, not enemies. He loved the idea of finally being able to tell his parents to back off on their attacks. He'd even toyed with the idea of showing her the world and finally being able to show her to the world.

It was obvious she didn't want the same things he did, though. Nope. She wanted his brother. His bastard, sanctimonious, pontificating, boring brother.

Whoever it was that made the universe turn had one brutal sense of humor.

* * *

"Theresita, I need to speak with you." 

Pilar Lopez-Fitzgerald's ominous words were Theresa's only greeting when she returned home that evening.

Theresa swallowed hard. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed—the bed in which she'd lain with Fox just that morning—and try to remember him. How it was to be held by him, to laugh with him, to dream with him.

But she didn't have that luxury. Tonight she had to put in an appearance as Mrs. Crane. Her last, she was determined.

"I have to get ready for the party."

Pilar would not be dodged. "This will only take a few minutes. Let's speak in private."

"That bad, huh? Well, things can't get much worse."

"Did something happen today?" Pilar asked, momentarily setting aside the matter she wanted to settle with her daughter.

Theresa swallowed hard, forcing the tears that began to sting her eyes to go away. "It's not anything I can talk about."

Pilar's pursed lips turned white from the pressure she exerted on them. "I see."

Theresa began her ascent to her room, her mother close behind her. Wordlessly, Resa opened the door to her bedroom. Her eyes immediately gravitated toward the vase of roses that sat on her nightstand. One last reminder of the night before….

_Theresa rested her head on Fox's chest. She could feel it rise and fall; his breathing was still labored, as was hers._

_"This has become a habit for us." She took his hand and pressed a tiny kiss to his fingertips._

_"More like an addiction," he corrected. "You are my drug. It's never been like this with anyone before."_

_Theresa snuggled a little closer to him and grinned broadly._

_He chuckled as he looked down at her. "Feeling proud of __yourself__?"_

_She __propped__ her chin on his chest and looked back at him. "Well, you are feeding my ego. Every woman wants to feel special, Fox."_

_"You are special, __Resa__. There's no one else quite like you."_

_"That's _probably_ a good thing. Could the world handle two Theresa Cranes?"_

_"No, but it would be fun to see everyone try." He sighed as he studied her. Her tan skin still had a glow from their lovemaking. Her dark eyes sparkled with so much life. And the way her lips curled when she smiled at him made him want her all over again. _

_She was gorgeous, and for a few __glorious hours__, she was all his. _

_"You__ a__re an object of beauty, __Resa__" Fox said as __he ran his fingers through her hair__. "Not unlike a rose." He reached for one of the flowers from the bouquet he brought her. She protested slightly as he moved away from her; she'd been so content in his arms._

_"Waxing poetic?" _

_He turned on his side and propped himself with his elbow. __"I'm charming you." H__e nuzzled her neck__ before pulling back again. "There's a difference. Now be quiet so I can turn on the charm."_

_Theresa smiled. Everything __Fox__ did seemed charming. He exuded so much charisma that Theresa thought he could make__ even__ an insult seem like the most beautiful lines of poetry. _

_Theresa lifted her right hand to her mouth, and pretended to zip her lips._

_"A rose smells sweet…" Holding the rose by its stem, Fox gently positioned the rose under her nose, and allowed the fragrance to waft its way to her nostrils. "….just __like__ you_

_"A rose__'s petals are__ soft, just like your skin." He lightly traced her __jawline__ with the bloom before moving downward along the contours of her neck and shoulders and then across her breasts. Theresa shivered from the sensations that coursed through her body._

_"But then there are the thorns. Part of that object of beauty is the danger. It's possessive, Theresa. Look, but don't touch. Enjoy, but not too much.__"_

_She caressed his face. "My lover i__s a philosopher," she murmured._

_"I like being your lover, __Resa__." He leaned into her hand and pressed a kiss against her palm. "But __would a rose be as beautiful without the thorns to remind a man what he can and can't have?"_

_"We could always find out." She sat up, took the rose from his hand, and opened the drawer of the nightstand on her side of the bed. _

_Fox's eyes widened when he saw her retrieve a knife from within. "You keep a knife in your nightstand?"_

_"You know what this house is like," she sighed. "I never know when I'll find a pirate, sheik, or Sherlock Holmes in my bedroom. It makes me feel better to have it here."_

_Fox felt his ire rise. "Has my father tried anything?" His tone was disapproving. Of all the members of his family, he was closest to his father, but he also recognized his father's shortcomings. The choices Julian Crane made where women were concerned, for example, left much to be desired. Theresa had once been caught in that web, much like a spider traps a fly._

_She shook her head. "Not lately. I can handle Julian. Besides, I'm not the same stupid little girl that I once was."_

_Fox smoothed her hair. __"Baptism by fire."_

_"Something __like__ that." She was deliberately evasive__, a__ tactic that was not lost on Fox._

_Theresa was so close-lipped about what happened in __Bermuda__ with his father and with Ethan. Oh, he'd heard his father's account, but didn't believe one word of it. He recognized the haunted look in __Resa's__eyes,__ saw the shards of the girl she had once been in the woman before him now._

_With deftness, Theresa held the rose's stem between the fingers of her left hand, careful not to prick herself. With her right hand, she cut away the thorns. _

_When she finished, she returned the knife to her nightstand and lifted the flower for his inspection. "It's scarred, but it doesn't hurt anymore."_

_"Do you hurt, Theresa?"_

_"Not when I'm with you."_

_He cupped her face in his hand. "Then let me be with you."_

_Resa__ laid back, her head on her pillow, and beckoned him to her. _

_His body covered hers like a blanket, but he was careful not to crush her. Tenderly, he whispered, "You are beautiful to me."_

_He pressed inside of her, and she moved against him, taking him deeper. _

_With all her might, she clung to him and wished that their closeness would see the light of day._

_The time had come to remove the thorns from her life._

"Those are lovely flowers, Theresa. Where did they come from?"

"Fox," Theresa replied quietly as she sat on the edge of the bed.

"From Nicholas?" Pilar's surprise was tinged with disapproval. "I was under the impression that you and he do not get along. Why would he give you flowers?"

"We get along better than people think, Mama." She added ruefully, "Or, at least, we did."

Pilar crossed her arms. "I wanted to speak with you to let you know Ethan and Gwen are back, but I wonder now if I am warning you about the wrong man."

Theresa stood and walked to her large closet. She fought against the impatience and frustration she felt toward her mother, but it still poured out. "You don't need to warn me about Ethan or Fox, Mama. I'm a grown woman! In fact, you don't need to warn me about _anything_."

"What is going on with you, Theresita? I see you some mornings, and you look like you've barely slept. You work such long hours, and you don't take care of yourself. You're so beautiful, _mi __hija_. You should have young men lining up around the block to take you out. This should be the best time of your life!"

Theresa frowned. How could she explain to her mother that she didn't want just any man? She wanted only one in particular—a man she could never have. No, Pilar Lopez-Fitzgerald wouldn't understand. No one would.

"I'm a married woman, Mama."

"_Dios_ knows that I don't approve of divorce, but in this case…._mi __hija_, get out while you still can."

Theresa nodded. "I'm taking care of it, Mama."

Pilar's eyebrows lifted. "You are?"

"Yes."

"I'm relieved. The Cranes destroy everything they touch. They're tainted with evil; even their money is tainted."

Theresa lifted her chin. "Not all the Cranes are evil."

"Yes, true. There is Sheridan. She's not like the others."

"Not just Sheridan, Mama."

"What do you mean by that?"

"This is not a conversation I want to have with you right now. I don't want to say something I'll regret, so you need to just go."

"I miss my little girl, Theresa. I wish you would share your life with me the way you used to."

Theresa shook her head. "No, you don't! You don't want to know the real me. You want me to fit into your mold of who you _think_ I am. _Everyone_ wants me to fit into this stifling mold, and I'm sick to death of it! I am suffocating!"

Angry tears streaked Theresa's cheeks. Her mother came toward her, and Theresa was unsure whether to pull her close or push her away.

Pilar made the choice for her.

Her warm hands wiped away her daughter's tears. "Let me know you, Theresita. Tell me what is wrong. What is it that has you so upset?"

"He doesn't want me, Mama! I love him, and I've lost him!"

"I know you're hurting, _mi __hija_, but Ethan is married to Gwen. He has made a commitment to her."

Theresa's words poured out. "No, you don't understand! It's not Ethan! It's Fox!"


	5. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** I began this story shortly after the character of Fox Crane came on the show back in 2002 (I think). It may be familiar to some of you who have read it on my website, so if you're getting deja vu, that is why. I decided that it would be a good idea to have the story archived in a central location, hence its posting here. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

**Chapter Four**

Pilar frowned. "Fox? No, Theresa. Tell me you are joking."

Theresa's heart dropped. She should have seen her mother's reaction coming. "I love him, Mama."

"No. No you do not. You don't even know him. He is a stranger to you. This is just another one of your fantasies." Pilar turned away from her daughter. "Where did I go wrong with you? When will this end?"

Frustration poured from Theresa. "There is nothing wrong with me, Mama. I am a grown woman who can make her own decisions. I chose to spend time with him. I chose to give my heart to him."

"And what has he given you in return? Nothing. Absolutely nothing!" Pilar turned to face her daughter again. She tried to calm herself. "What you're saying makes no sense. I've watched the two of you, how you tear into each other, make the most cutting of remarks."

Theresa wrung her hands. "For the benefit of those around us. But it is all an act. Each night, we laugh together, dream together. When I'm with him, I feel so alive, and I never want the night to end."

"And every morning you are so tired because.." Realization dawned on Pilar. "Oh Dios mio! Theresa, of all the men in the world!"

Theresa looked her mother squarely in the eyes. "He's not like you think, Mama. He's kind, generous, loving."

"He's a player, Theresa. A user!"

"No!"

Pilar shook her head. "You're forgetting that I've known Nicholas Crane longer than you've been alive. From the time he was a child, he was spoiled and selfish, very much like his father. He hasn't outgrown those qualities. It's obvious to me that he thought nothing of getting what he wanted from my daughter and then tossing her aside! Have you learned _nothing_ from your experiences with the Crane family?"

"And haven't you learned that you can't tell me how to feel? Just because you _think_ I should feel one way doesn't mean that I will! Mama, I love you so much, and I respect you, but you can't live my life for me!"

"You respect me, mi hija?"

"Yes."

"Then how can you so blatantly _disrespect_ and _disregard_ the values I've taught you? You give yourself to a man when you're married to his father. This same man whose brother you were obsessed with. Still are, for all I know."

"It's not like that, Mama. Really it's not."

"Then tell me what it's like. And don't tell me you don't think it's wrong, because I know you do. Otherwise, you and he would not put on an act for the world to see."

"What do you want from me?" Theresa cried out. "No matter what I say, it will be wrong. I'll always be wrong where you're concerned."

"Now you're just feeling sorry for yourself," Pilar scolded.

"You're right, Mama. I am. But you know what? You asked why I was upset, so I told you. You aren't going to change how I feel by chastising me because I would take Fox to my bed this very night if I could."

Pilar gasped. "Those are the devil's words!"

"No, they aren't. They're my words, Mama. My name is Theresa Crane!"

"Everything the Cranes touch, Theresa, _everything_ becomes tainted with evil."

Theresa walked to the door of her bedroom and opened it. "It's time for you to go so I can get ready."

Pilar sighed heavily before going through the doorway. Theresa prepared to close the door, but Pilar stopped it from shutting completely. "I will go because this isn't getting us anywhere, but know this, Theresa. Our discussion isn't over."

* * *

Julian Crane stood proud and tall in the entrance of the ballroom at the country club. "Take my arm," he muttered through his toothy grin. "Appearances must be upheld." 

Theresa looked up at him, and her dark eyes narrowed as she placed her hand on his proffered right arm. "This is as close to me as you'll ever be, Julian."

Julian Crane placed his hand over his wife's. "I'll touch you how I please, when I please. Besides, it's a little late, don't you think, to be warning me away? I know what a little tigress you are in bed."

Theresa looked up him and smiled. To an outside observer, it would have been lovely, perhaps even sweet, but Julian could feel her malice and even see it in her smile. "You really shouldn't call me a tigress considering that neither of us remembers our wedding night. Although I will say that being compared to a feline is infinitely more pleasant than being compared to swine, which is what you are, Julian."

They walked to the dance floor, and Julian pulled her close. "You're in rare form tonight, my pet. A few more years of this, and you'll be as dried out as Ivy. What you really need is a man to keep you…," he paused for effect, "…moist."

"Too bad there's not one in sight. Besides, you wouldn't survive _a few more years_ of me, Julian."

Julian's right hand splayed across Theresa's back, and with his left hand he took her hand. "It's a sin to forsake the marriage bed, Theresa."

"I've committed so many sins, Julian. What's one more?"

Julian leaned forward, his hot breath blowing against the delicate shell of his wife's ear. "I want an heir, Theresa."

The younger woman felt queasy upon hearing her husband's words. "I've already told you that you will never touch me in that way again. If I'd been in my right mind, you never would have touched me like that to begin with."

Julian cocked his head. "Don't you want another son to replace the one we lost?"

"You can't replace one child with another," she said quietly. "I can't believe you would even suggest it! Besides, you already have an heir. Nicholas is your son, through and through."

"Mine and _Ivy's_," Julian spoke his ex-wife's name with contempt. "He has no interest in the Crane family, except for what he can bilk out of us."

Theresa's heart broke for Fox. "That's not true. All his life, he's wanted to make you proud, but you and Ivy were too consumed by your own selfishness to notice. What did that teach him? You might not pay attention if he does something good, but if he does something you don't approve of…"

Julian was taken aback. "What makes you think you know anything about my son?"

"Because I know Fox, and I _know_ how _amazing_ he is!"

"Fox is it, now?" Julian's brows lifted upon hearing Theresa call his son by his nickname. "Well, well, it seems I _should_ pay more attention, indeed. Maybe then I would have seen this coming."

Theresa swallowed hard. She'd revealed more than intended. "Seen what coming?"

Julian chuckled. "He _is_ my son through and through. Your own words, Theresa. A chip off the old block. He's like me. He wants the forbidden fruit. It's sweeter that way. I just hope for your sake, wife, that you weren't foolish enough to give it to him."

"What would you do, Julian, if I had Nicholas in my bed every night? Hhhmmm?"

Julian's voice lowered, all pretense of pleasantness gone. "You would lose everything, Theresa. Everything."

Theresa squeezed his shoulder. "Actually, _you_ would lose everything. What would all of your friends and business associates say? Julian Crane, ever the man on the prowl, loses wife to younger, more virile, man. Hypothetically speaking, of course."

"What a slut wife I have," he sneered.

"Maybe," Theresa replied with as much casualness as she could muster. "Or maybe, just maybe, they'd get word of that Viagra prescription of yours."

"What do you want?"

"I want out, and I don't want you to make it unnecessarily difficult for me—or my family."

"I can destroy you, Theresa."

"What is there left for you to do to me, Julian? You got me drunk in Bermuda, I ended up married to you, I destroyed the faith of the man I loved, I disappointed my family, and I lost my baby."

"Oh, I can be very creative, wifey."

"So can I." The music ended. "Thanks for the dance, Julian. Enjoy your evening."

With that, she walked away from her husband and scanned the room looking for a familiar face—one familiar face in particular.

"Looking for Ethan?" the deep voice behind her queried.

Theresa's heart skipped a beat. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. She'd wanted to see Fox desperately, and he was finally there.

She turned to face him, and immediately she felt as though the wind was being knocked out of her. He took her breath away; he always did when he wore a tuxedo. It was, of course, perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders. The whiteness of the collar in contrast to the tanned features made him all the more striking. The cleft in his chin, his kissable lips, his cute pointy nose, his brows which framed his dark eyes so perfectly…all of him was just…perfect.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" He spoke glibly, but there was an edge to his tone.

Theresa resisted the urge to reach out to him. "I was looking for you actually."

"Right." He didn't sound convinced.

"No really I was. I have so much I want to tell you, Fox. I know I'm probably going to make a fool of myself, but I don't care. I…"

"There you are!"

Theresa gasped when she saw a leggy blonde loop her arm through Fox's. He leaned toward her, whispered something in her ear, and she laughed lightly.

Her voice was as smooth as velvet, though she spoke with animated hand gestures that displayed to perfection her manicured nails. "I am _so_ sorry to have abandoned you. Fifi Owensby and I just hadn't seen each other in forever and a day!"

"I think I'd forgive you anything." Fox reached over and stroked the newcomer's cheek, and she rewarded him with a smile.

Resa watched in horror. She wanted to run from the scene and never look back. Or better yet, she wanted to find something messy and sticky and smear it in Fox's face. However, she did neither of those things. Her pride forced her to stay put and confront Fox's subtle challenges.

"Mary Elizabeth, allow me to introduce you to my step-mother. This is Theresa Crane, my father's…" he paused for a moment. "…which wife is it, Theresa? Second or third? I always forget."

Theresa extended her hand, forcing Mary Elizabeth to release her hold on Fox to shake it. "Theresa Crane. You'll have to excuse Nicholas. He's so accustomed to sliding by on good looks and his dubious charm that he's sorely neglected his manners."

"Ouch, Step-mommy." Fox lifted a brow. "Score one for you."

"I didn't realize we were keeping score."

Mary Elizabeth looked to Fox and back to Theresa, the tension between them making her uncomfortable. She did, however, manage a smile, her white teeth in perfect rows. "Theresa, I hope you won't mind if I steal your step-son away for a dance. Maybe we can catch up later?"

"Um…sure." Theresa watched in dismay as Mary Elizabeth intertwined her fingers with Fox's and the two walked to the dance floor.

"They look nice out there together, don't they?"

Theresa jumped slightly. She'd been so watchful of Fox and Mary Elizabeth that she'd not heard her husband's approach.

"See how he holds her close. That's a Crane man."

"Yes, all the couples look nice tonight," Theresa spoke, hedging.

"Nicholas and Mary Elizabeth, in particular. They seem to really have hit it off. I doubt we'll be seeing him at home tonight." Julian squeezed Theresa's shoulder. "Can't say I'd blame him. I would love to have her long legs wrapped around _me_."

"You're disgusting, Julian. Just go away."

"Touched a nerve, did I? Guess that's the only thing you'll have touched tonight." He laughed at his own joke.

"I'm going to get a breath of fresh air. Your stench is making me feel nauseated."

She started for the terrace but couldn't fight the urge to turn and look at Fox and Mary Elizabeth one last time. When she did, she was surprised to find that Fox's eyes were fixed upon her.

And so across the distance, their gazes locked. She was his captive, though no chains bound them. She was his lover, though he held someone else.

Eternity passed in an instant.

The thorns tore at her flesh.

And then he looked away.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"She looks upset," Mary Elizabeth Brewington noted as she looked up at Fox.

"Who?" His voice was casual. He played at being disingenuous, but he knew exactly what his date meant.

"Your step-mother. Do the two of you argue like that all the time?"

"Well…."

_Theresa glared at Fox. The impatient tapping of her heeled shoe was muffled by the __lush__ carpeting of the limousine. __"You need to know that this isn't a game."_

_Fox stretched his arms on the back of the seat and noted how Theresa shrank away from him. __"Who's playing a game, Step-mommy? Those people don't have homes. I get that."_

_"And do you also 'get' that they need more than an open checkbook? They need compassion and love and…"_

_"And you need a photo-op. __Give the reporters something to hem and haw over besides Ethan and Gwen's wedding. __We've covered our bases."__ He yawned._

_Theresa's face grew hot. Fox Crane knew her Achilles __heel,__ and he wasn't above using it to get to her. "__No. No reporters, Fox. I'm not like Ivy or Julian. I don't need my every involvement in charity to be chronicled by the newspapers or society magazines.__ If circumstances had been different, _my_ family could very well have been the ones without a roof over our heads.__"_

_"Well, then, Step-mother Theresa, should you apply for sainthood now, or wait until you've accumulated a few more good deeds?"_

_"Why are you so bitter, Fox? You've been given everything in the world. __Everything!"_

_He stared out the window. "Not everything."_

_The warmth of the brandy traveled down Nicholas Crane's throat. It was his father's drink of choice. _Fortification_, as Julian Crane called it. _

_Fox felt like he needed fortification and something else. _

_He'd never considered himself to be a particularly serious person. In truth, he equated seriousness with dullness. Too much like Ethan. Yet the sight he saw tonight made him question himself in a way he never thought he would._

What is my value?

_He had not wanted to go to the shelter that night, but ever so often he succumbed to his duties as a Crane. Being a Crane was one of the few responsibilities that he actually upheld. _

_He discovered something valuable that night. _

_Love._

_Her name was Sarah, and she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Her red hair curled in ringlets. Freckles dashed across her nose and cheeks. Her green eyes were inquisitive, bright._

_But those enchanting green eyes had already seen, at age six, more than anyone should ever have to see. Her father died in a fire that destroyed their home, leaving her, her mother, and two brothers devastated._

_But she was an amazing girl. She spoke animatedly of how she fell in the bathtub and knocked her two front teeth loose. Eventually, they fell out on their own, and the tooth fairy brought two whole dollars. _

_Sarah sang a little song, "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth…my two front teeth…", and explained that Santa Claus _was_ going to bring her teeth, but that Santa wouldn't know where to find them that year because they didn't have a house anymore, so she'd have to wait another couple of Christmases for her teeth._

_Damn it. The young should never be disillusioned like that. They should believe in Tooth Fairies, Santa, the Easter bunny, and the infallibility of family for as long as possible._

_Fox had been so lost in his thoughts, he'd neither seen nor heard Theresa walk into the dimly lit living room._

_"I watched you tonight with those children, and I owe you an apology. I was so worried that you wouldn't take it seriously, but when I saw you reading to them, I knew I was wrong. That little girl__.."_

_"Sarah."__ He spoke her name softly._

_Theresa was surprised by his tone. It lacked its usually sarcastic edge. __"Yes, Sarah, she just adored you."_

_Fox shrugged off Theresa's words. __He didn't want to open himself to her, but when she spoke with such sincerity, it was a struggle._

_"I'm not a do-gooder like my brother. I'm a feel-__gooder__. Being around those kids felt __good__. So as you can se__e, it was purely selfish on my __part."_

_With that, he took a gulp of the liquor. It stung his eyes—or was it thoughts of Sarah that did that? He wasn't certain._

_Theresa refused to allow his dismissal. __"But it wasn't something you _had_ to do." She took a deep breath. "I just underestimated you, and I truly am sorry."_

_Fox looked at __Theresa,__ really looked at her. _

_She was beautiful. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders in waves. __Thick, luxuriant.__ He wanted to bury his fingers in it, or to situate her on top of him and let her hair drape over his face and body as she lavished him with kisses. _

_Her slender body, though well concealed by the robe she wore, captured his imagination. Was her skin as soft and smooth as he thought it would be? What would it be like to feast upon her breasts? Was she hot and tight? He'd been on the receiving end of more than one verbal tongue lashing from her, but what would it be to kiss her and to really feel her tongue? What noises would she make? Would she cry out to him in English or Spanish?_

_Fox set the down the glass, bothered by the path his thoughts had taken and further disturbed by her physical, as well as emotional, proximity. _

_It was better for them to maintain their distance. __And what better way than to feed into her image of him?_

_He smirked, his air of arrogance firmly in place. __"Well, I've been a good boy tonight. Does that mean I get to sit on step-mommy's lap?"_

_Fox thought she would slap him. He actually braced himself for it, but she surprised him._

_Instead she __smiled,__ a brilliant, blinding smile. __"I'm not _that_ sorry."_

Looking back, he knew that was the moment their relationship changed. They began a dance, an achingly slow dance. Inhibitions melted away, his need for her consumed him. It was a need he'd still not managed to sate even when she became his lover.

He just wanted more of her. And more. And more. It was never enough.

Even the simplest touches made him feel like a starved man feasting for the first time.

She caressed his cheek with such tenderness just the night before.

_My lover is a philosop__her, _she told him.

He loved being her lover. But he couldn't call himself that anymore, not when it was blatantly obvious that she still wanted his half-brother.

"Well what?" Mary Elizabeth prompted.

"We don't always fight," Fox finished.

"The way she was looking at us, Nicholas…I'm guessing there was more to the spat than I saw."

"You're digging."

"Maybe," Mary Elizabeth admitted, "but I'm just trying to understand you better. I want to know what it is that makes you tick."

Fox spun her around. "I prefer the air of mystery myself."

"And I like being straight-forward," Mary Elizabeth countered as she came close to him once more. "I am very attracted to you, Nicholas, and I'm hoping that before the night is over, we'll go to someplace more private so I can get to know you better." She slid her hand down his chest. "All of you."

Fox said nothing. He was too busy peering over his date's shoulder. "Why would my mother be following Theresa outside?" he muttered to himself.

Mary Elizabeth touched his face, forcing his attention back to her. "It's poor form to not listen to a woman when she's making a pass at you."

Fox tilted his head and grinned. "Mea culpa. Forgive me?"

"Only if you promise to make it up to me. You can deal with your step-mother later. I want your undivided attention, Nicholas Crane, and I can promise you that I'll make it worth your while."

* * *

The light hum of a motorized wheelchair sounded in Theresa's ears. A plunk-plunk noise followed as the chair's inhabitant rode onto the stone terrace, hitting the grooves between each stone. "Julian mentioned you were out here, that you were feeling a bit queasy."

"I'm fine," Theresa replied impatiently. Ivy Winthrop Crane was the last person to whom she wanted to speak.

"That's too bad," Ivy smirked. "It's lonely, isn't it, Theresa? Being a Crane wife, I mean."

Theresa said nothing.

"You did this to yourself, you know. You lost Ethan; he might be coming tonight, but he'll never be coming for _you_."

"I don't want Ethan," Theresa replied, her voice steady.

"Sure you don't, Theresa. Please." Ivy harsh, sarcastic tone filled the night air. "You can't kid a kidder. You'll always want Ethan, but the beauty of it is that you'll never have him. My son—the most precious person in the world to me—will have _nothing_ to do with you."

Theresa leaned against the stone railing. "At one time, I would have sold my soul to be him. I won't deny that."

"But I'm to believe that now you _won't_ do anything? I, of all people, am well aware of what lengths you'll go to, Theresa. Sending my private, personal letter to the tabloid, threatening me with a fire poker, and plotting to take my title as Mrs. Crane. You've been busy these last few years, haven't you?"

"I didn't send your letter to the tabloid. I would never have hurt Ethan like that—or you. I did care about you once, Ivy."

Ivy rolled her eyes. "More likely you cared about what I could do for you. It's always been about you, hasn't it, Theresa? You have to be the most selfish, manipulative woman I've ever met. Thank God Ethan realized what you are before it was too late. The thought of my son being married to a tramp like you is enough to make my blood pressure go through the roof."

"He who is without sin shall cast the first stone. Don't speak to _me_ of manipulations, Ivy, or of love for your son. I watch you everyday try to worm your way into Sam Bennett's life, and I see how you shower one child with adoration at the expense of the others."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course not."

"I'm not after Sam, and I love _all_ my children."

"Right—which explains why your daughters never call or come home for visits. They just feel _so_ loved. And Fox—was there ever a time when you weren't criticizing him because he wasn't enough like Ethan to suit you?"

"Spoken like a woman who _isn't_ a mother," Ivy sneered.

Ivy might as well have physically punched Theresa. It would have hurt less. "I was a mother, Ivy. For a few hours, I was the happiest woman in the entire world."

"Julian's child, the child of a man you hate."

"Ethan Martin was my son, Ivy. My beautiful, perfect baby boy. He might not have been created out of love, but he was loved. _Is_ loved." Theresa took a deep breath. "That's why I will never understand how you can be so loving with one child and cold with the others."

"When you have a child with a man you actually love, then perhaps you'll understand the difference."

"It isn't right, Ivy."

"It is what it is, Theresa." Ivy groaned. "I don't know why I'm even having this conversation with you. I just came out here to…"

"Gloat?" Theresa supplied. "Well, you've done your bad deed for the day. Run along, Ivy." She stopped and slapped her forehead in mock realization. "Oh, that's right. Silly me! You can't run, can you?"

With that, Theresa walked past Ivy and rejoined the party.

She was greeted by a sea of faces, many of whom she didn't know. It was apparent more people had arrived in the last few minutes.

Why was she even there? This life she had dreamed for herself as a child, this life of privilege and power, was so empty without love.

Would she become, as Julian suggested, another Ivy? Gaining pleasure in inflicting hurt on others?

Would she even feel anything at all?

Perhaps Fox was right. Perhaps something was broken inside of her.

Theresa felt a twitch in her stomach at the thought. The nausea was back, and she fought it down.

She meandered through the crowd, and caught snippets of conversation.

_"Nancy was horrified when she discovered the bone colored china had been ordered instead of mother-of-pearl. Naturally, she immediately terminated her party planner's employment…"_

_"I swear it's true. Rebecca Hotchkiss has been trying to reconcile with Jonathan, but he has someone else in mind…"_

_"I hear he's just like his father. Leaves a woman behind everywhere he goes. I only hope he's more careful. Lord knows we don't need any more knocked-up housekeepers' daughters climbing the social ladder."_

_"__Shannon__ told me that Gwen isn't showing at all. Makes me wonder if those rumors are true…."_

_"What do you think she'll do when she sees Ethan__"_

_"Mary Elizabeth has her sights set on him. Look at the way they're dancing. No doubt what they'll be doing tonight…"_

_"The financial reports seemed a little doctored, if you ask me…"_

Alone.

Surrounded by people and alone.

_"__Those damn Cranes are cursed, sis. __You'__ll never be one of them__. Find a nice, local boy. Settle down. Have a family."_

_"__Just bill everything to me, Mrs. Julian Crane__."_

"Well, if it isn't Mrs. Crane!"

Theresa jumped slightly when she realized she was being greeted.

She turned to face a middle-aged mustached man, a smile plastered on his lined face. "Julian needs to keep a tighter rein on you, or some disreputable rake like myself might just come along and ask you for a dance." His voice was scratchy but jovial, nonetheless.

Theresa's eyes widened in recognition. "Bruce. I haven't seen you since…"

"Bermuda," he supplied as he took her hand and kissed it. "I have to say you look far more fetching in an evening gown than you do in a bathrobe with a hangover." He chuckled. "I didn't think Julian was going to live to see the afternoon when your…um…fiancé et al. came looking for you."

"I remember," Theresa replied, her nose wrinkling at the memory. "You were there that morning with champagne and our marriage license."

"Guilty as charged." Bruce spoke glibly.

Judging by the grin on his face, he didn't feel guilty, but Theresa sure did. In those few hours, her life changed irrevocably. Choices were made; lives were destroyed; a new woman was born from alcohol and a mistaken marriage bed.

"Dance with me, Theresa."

"I don't think…" She hesitated. Seeing him brought back emotions she'd fought hard to bury.

"What's a dance between old friends?" he coaxed. "Besides, it might prove _interesting_ for you."

"Theresa? Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald?"

She heard a man's voice from a distance. No one called her that anymore, at least not to her face.

"When it rains, it pours. You're in demand tonight," Bruce replied with a waggle of his brows.

"Who?" she asked distractedly.

And then he emerged from the crowd. Tall, lean, strangely familiar. How did she know him?

"I thought that was you," the man said as he closed the distance between Theresa and himself. "You look ravishing tonight, but I would have expected nothing less."

"Th-thank you," Theresa stammered, still trying to recall who the man was.

He ran his fingers through his sandy blond hair and looked to Theresa's companion. "How's it going, Bruce?"

"No complaints, Chuck. Tennis circuit treating you well?"

Chuck.

Chuck Wilson.

_"Rich boys and poor girls can be in relationships. I know you miss Chuck, and I know the difference in your backgrounds is why the two of you broke up, but you can't give up on love, Theresa."_

She tried to tell Ethan so many times that it wasn't Chuck she loved—that it was him. He never let her get the words out.

And now, Chuck Wilson stood before her in the flesh. Her imaginary first love. Her imaginary heart-breaker.

Resa's mind raced. _Oh, God. What am I going to do? What am I going to do?_

"Gave up the pros about a year back. Found I didn't have the discipline. I still enjoy a good match, though." Chuck turned back to Theresa. "Actually, I'm playing your step-son in a couple of days."

Theresa managed a weak smile. "How nice. I know Nicholas enjoys the game."

"He's very competitive. When Fox Crane wants something, he doesn't stop halfway." Chuck nodded in the direction of Fox and Mary Elizabeth.

Like an observer of a train wreck, Theresa couldn't help but look and curse herself for her curiosity. Her ex-lover sat side-by-side with his soon-to-be lover, one hand draped over her shoulder. With his other hand, he teased her with a piece of imported cheese, coming close to her mouth before moving it out of biting distance.

Bruce placed a hand on Theresa's shoulder. "I believe that's a trait of all Crane men, isn't it, Theresa? It's a punishment and a reward, I suspect."

"A trait of the Crane women, too," Theresa replied coolly. She stepped away from the older man; being near him was too much like being near Julian. She took Chuck's hand as an escape. "I'd love to catch up with you. Ask me to dance."

Chuck grinned. "May I have this dance?"

"Yes," Theresa replied with a smile before shooting an uneasy look at Bruce, who maintained an amused expression.

Resa was relieved to take her leave of Bruce as Chuck led her onto the dance floor. He held her lightly in his arms, a welcome and refreshing contrast to her husband and his friend, Bruce.

"You're not the timid girl I met all those years ago. I have to tell you that I never regretted doing that particular favor for Whitney."

Theresa lowered her gaze. "Have you ever told anyone about that?"

"What? Pretending to be your boyfriend? I never had a reason."

_It was a different life._

_A dif__ferent set of complications._

_A different set of dreams._

_A differ__ent set of rules._

"I must have seemed so silly to you," Theresa replied with a smile. "I've changed a lot, Chuck."

Chuck gazed over her appreciatively. "I can see you have. You've grown up, Theresa. You were a beautiful girl, but now you're an exquisite woman. I hope you'll forgive my slip."

"What slip was that?"

"Calling you by your maiden name. I still find it difficult to believe you're Theresa Crane."

"You and me both," Theresa groaned. Her unhappy state of matrimony was no secret among the country club set.

"How did that happen? I mean, last I heard, you were crazy about Julian's son. Well, his ex-son. Weren't you engaged to Ethan?"

Theresa shook her head, willed the conversation to go away. "It's a long story."

He shrugged. "That's okay. I can take a hint. I was just trying to figure out what it would take to woo you away from your husband."

"Woo me away from, Julian?"

"Don't tell me I have my work cut out for me," Chuck replied with mock horror.

"I'm sure that there will be _tons_ of old biddies who would be more than happy to tell you the story later," Theresa teased, grateful for the brief reprieve, "and give you hints on how to catch Harmony's 'most successful golddigger.'"

"Or," Chuck amended, "instead of seeking outside sources of information about you, I could get it from Ethan."

Theresa's brows furrowed. "From Ethan?"

"Sure. He and Gwen just walked in."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"Ethan's here?" Theresa's voice was shaky. Silently, she cursed herself. She knew that eventually she would have to face the man who, at one point had been her sun, her reason for being, her very life force.

But realizing it and actually dealing with it were two matters entirely.

"He's over in the doorway, looking this way, actually."

The room melted away. The shades of gold in the ballroom merged to a barrage of colors, scents, sounds. Popcorn, hotdogs, a sweet summer breeze.

_She was a girl again, engrossed in her fashion magazine. Slowly she backed up._

_Ouch. What hit her in the back? She looked up and over in time to see a young man getting doused with blue paint—paint from the __can__ that had been sitting atop the ladder she knocked._

_She grimaced. __"Oh my.__ Did I do that?"_

_Temper flaring, he replied, "There's no one else around."_

_Oh dear. He was definitely angry. "I didn't see the ladder__ behind me," she offered by way__ of explanation._

_"Why don't you watch where you're going?" _

_His tone was harsh, cutting. She didn't appreciate it._

_"I said I was sorry."_

_"No, you didn't. Get me a rag or something." He reached out and gr__abbed her arm, blue paint smeared__ on her __delicate __sweater._

_She jerked away from him. "Get it yourself!"_

Summer passed. She was no longer outside at the carnival but inside a rustic cabin across the table from _him_. A warm fire heated the room, but just being near him heated her heart. She could tell him those things she'd kept so private.

_"__I love him, you know? Even though he left all those years ago, and I barely remember him, he's still in my heart."_

_He nodded knowingly. __"My father never left, but I barely know him. It's understandable, I suppose. I mean, growing up, I was away at school. When I'd come home he was busy or away __on a business trip. My father didn't teach me how to ride a bike, skate, or make snowballs. It was __Pilar__." _

_A smile crossed her features. __"How much did she teach you?"_

_His brows furrowed. __"What?"_

_She leapt from her seat and ran around the table. __"How much did you learn?"_

_"What are you talking about?"__ He grinned. Her energy was infectious. _

_She grabbed his hands and pulled him from the chair. __"Come on. We're going to have a snowball fight. And I better warn you. I have a great arm!"_

They laughed that night, the first of many to come.

It wouldn't be the last time they'd stay in the cabin together, either.

The times changed. Only this time, he took on a new persona. He was Elvis, and they could laugh about her clumsiness.

_There's only one little flaw, as far as I can see. Everything that you hold, you always __seem__ to spill…on me._

He would eventually discover many more flaws.

_"Well…?"_

_"I loved it," she hesitated before saying his name, "Elvis. I had no idea you could do the king."_

_He averted his gaze sheepishly, but she could tell he was pleased. __"Nobody does. I kind of kept it a secret. It doesn't quite fit the image of a Crane or a corporate attorney."_

_She wanted to reach out to him, to scream that she loved __him, that__ she always had. Appearances didn't matter. All that mattered was what was inside, and she loved the person he was. __"You were wonderful."_

_His tone became much more serious. __"Theresa, I wanted to do something special for you, to help you realize that you still have a lot of love inside you to give to someone, someone who deserves you."_

He drew close to her at the cabin, but he pulled away from her for a time in Bermuda. Was he afraid that they were becoming _too_ close?

_"Theresa, I can't eat dinner with you tonight."_

_She held a hat in her hand and nervously squeezed it. __"Why not?"_

_His response was somewhat impatient. "I have too much work to catch up on. You understand, don't you?"_

_"Yes, Ethan. I understand. I understand completely."_

But she didn't. Not until later.

She'd been in the dining area alone until a gentleman approached and asked to join her. She refused him. He tried to change her mind.

And then there was Ethan.

_"__The lady is dining with me."_

_"Ethan, you came."_

He came! He couldn't stay away! They were drawn to each other, and fate smiled upon her.

The air smelled of salt, but the breeze was no longer a warm, tropical one. Theresa and Ethan stood on the deck of the prom boat. Her heart burst with love, excitement, and anticipation.

_ "What did you just say?" He smiled at her, uncertain and stunned._

_She fought the urge to reach out to him. __"I said, I love you."_

_"You love me?"__ His tone was incredulous. _

_"Yes. I love you, Ethan."_

_Surely he couldn't be hearing her correctly. __"You mean you're grateful to me for taking you to prom. You love me as a friend, right?"_

_She shook her head and poured her heart out to him. __"No. Not as a friend. It goes much, much deeper than that. I love you with all of my heart."_

The sounds of the growing storm were replaced by the quiet calm of her mother's home. It was late; the day had been long. Only it seemed longer with so much uncertainty between them.

Her head pounded. The accident on her brother's motorcycle left her body bruised, but it was nothing compared to how her heart ached.

That night, he told her what she longed to hear.

_I love you_.

Yet he'd said the same words to another woman, his fiancée.

_"If you don't love me, just turn around and walk away. Then I'll know you care for me, but not as much as you love Gwen. I'll know that you won't call off the wedding….__"_

But he stayed.

_"__You're, you're not walking away."_

They were still in her mother's house, but it was no longer quiet or calm. Furniture was overturned. Ethan was disheveled after scuffling with Luis.

_"Our love is tearing your family apart."_

_"You just don't understand."_

_"No, your family is too important to you!"_

He turned away, and left her. She followed him outside, her world crashing around her.

_"Ethan, please! Don't leave! I love you!"_

_Slowly, he returned. She threw her arms around him, pulling him close, unable to get close enough. He held her a moment, then extricated himself. With his large, warm hands, he wiped away her tears. __"I'm sorry, my love."_

She died inside.

The organs played, but not for a funeral. Midnight Mass was about to begin.

_"I hope you and Gwen will be very happy together, Ethan. Your happiness is all that matters to me." The words were difficult to say, but she meant them. Loving someone meant wanting what was best for them. So through the tears that __brimmed__ her eyes, she smiled._

_He looked __so__ handsome as he smiled at her. "__Theresa, wait. You don't understand.__"_

_She grasped her mother's hand. __"__ No__, I-I do. When you went to Gwen and proposed to her.__"_

_He shook his head. "__No. I went to Gwen because it's the honorable thing to do.__" His right eyebrow shot up, the tiniest involuntary movement that she had always loved.__"__ It's__ you, Theresa. You're the woman I want to __spend the rest of my life with."_

_Her heart skipped a beat. Had she heard him correctly? Had her prayers truly been answered? _

_"__What?__"_

_Ethan drop__ped__ to his knees._

_"__You are the only woman for me, Theresa. Make me the happiest man in the world and be my wife.__"_

_Tears streamed down her face. __"__Oh Ethan!__"_

_"__Will you marry me?__"_

_The words she'd longed to hear…the moment she'd always dreamed about…lost in an instant, lost in an eternity._

_"__Yes! Yes!__"_

The organ and choir faded to the singing of the waves as they hit the rocks along the beach. Summer filled the air again. Summer, along with hope, anticipation for the wedding which would soon follow, and love.

So much love.

They were caught up in the moment.

In so much love.

_He pulled away from her, his breathing labored. __"Theresa….Theresa, __stop__. You promised your mother you would wait."_

_She touched his face lightly, a smile illuminated her features. __"I know. __Until our wedding day.__ Well, guess what?__" She leaned forward and their foreheads touched. "__It is our wedding day."_

_He released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. __"It's only a matter of hours."_

_She kissed him feverishly. __"But like I said, it is our wedding day. I don't want to wait. Don't make me wait."_

It was their last night of happiness.

A wedding followed the next day. A wedding with interruptions, accusations, and no marriages.

But it did lead to a marriage.

Her marriage to Julian.

In her haste to retrieve for Ethan what he'd lost because of her carelessness, she went to Bermuda. Beautiful Bermuda which had once been so special to her.

Beautiful Bermuda became her undoing.

She was pregnant with Julian's child.

How could she tell Ethan? How could she break his heart? How could she risk losing him?

They were in her room in her mother's home. He wanted to stay with her. She wanted that, too, but she couldn't enjoy being with him. Not when the house of cards was about to fall.

_He sat on the bed next to her. "You were right. We can't afford to have a baby right now."_

_She said nothing. __Just nodded.__ How could she tell him she was pregnant? _

_"Theresa, are you alright?"_

_She toyed with the tie he wore and spoke quietly. __"Yeah.__ I'm fine. I just want to be close to you."_

_"Your wish is my command."__ Tenderly he placed a kiss on her lips. _

_She fell back on the bed, bringing him with her._

_She looked up at him and could see the love reflected in his eyes. It killed her knowing it would end. But she wanted to dream just a while longer. She wanted to believe._

_"Will you love me forever?"_

_He kissed her softly. __"Forever and ever."_

Then they were no longer alone in her childhood bedroom. They were surrounded by friends, family, and even enemies.

The tabloid was her undoing. The party-goers at the New Years Eve celebration stared upon hearing the news of Theresa's pregnancy.

Ethan beamed.

Theresa wanted to die.

_"I have an announcement to make. I'm going to be a father!"_

Four little words changed everything.

_"This isn't your baby."_

Nothing was ever easy again. Ethan felt betrayed.

Was it pride or the fact she'd lied?

Even with time and distance, that was a question she couldn't answer.

_"You lied to me! __Again!"_

_"Please, Ethan. I love you!"_

It was winter again. Why did bad things always happen in the winter?

They almost managed to put their life together again. And then the unthinkable happened.

In the solarium Ethan, Gwen, and Theresa stood.

_"It's true. Gwen is pregnant with my child." He spoke so matter-of-factly and stood by Gwen's side._

He was determined to marry the mother of his child.

Theresa begged.

How she begged!

_"I know you don't love Gwen more__ than me__! You might be able to lie to a priest, but you can't lie to me!"_

_"When you act like this, yes, I do love Gwen more."_

She made one last-ditch effort to keep Ethan close, but she had to set him free.

She had to set _herself_ free.

_ "I hope you and Gwen will be very happy in your new life together, Ethan."_

So why did she feel like a slave to the past?

"You okay?" Chuck asked.

"I think I lost myself there for a minute."

"He broke your heart, didn't he?"

"More like stomped on it."

"I take it you don't want to go say hello then," he commented wryly.

"No. I want to stay here and dance with you. Ethan is my past. There's no place for him in my life anymore."

"But you loved him once."

"When I was a little girl." He lowered her gaze then lifted her eyes to her companion. "But as you've noted, I'm a woman now."

"An exquisite woman," Chuck amended.

"In the arms of a very handsome man. I'm perfectly content to be right where I am."

hr 

"Oh look, Ethan. Your mother is here. Let's go say hello." Gwen Winthrop tugged lightly at her husband's hand, but his feet were planted firmly.

It was then that Gwen noted his blue eyes weren't even focused on her. They were directed toward the crowded dance floor.

Sullenly, he spoke, "What's she doing with him? He broke her heart before."

Gwen didn't eve have to ask who Ethan was talking about. It was Theresa.

It was _always_ Theresa.

Theresa when her husband saw a petite, dark haired woman from behind.

Theresa when they spoke of baby names for little girls.

Theresa when he slept at night and dreamed.

Theresa when they made love and Ethan found his release.

Gwen was sick to death of Theresa. "Please, Ethan. Let's just enjoy tonight. Forget about what Theresa is doing. Concentrate on us. We've just had the most amazing honeymoon, stayed in the most fabulous hotels in the world, and revisited all the old sites. I can't wait to show you off to all our old friends and let them see how married life agrees with _both_ of us."

Gwen's words didn't penetrate Ethan's oblivion. "I know she saw us."

"Who cares if she did? Ethan, you're my husband. Theresa is Julian's wife. She is _his_ responsibility. If Theresa wants to spend time with an old flame, I don't care as long as it's not you."

hr 

"They look like they're arguing," Chuck commented.

Theresa's back was to Ethan and Gwen; she refused to turn to look. "It wouldn't be the first time. It won't be the last."

"You amaze me, Theresa."

"Why is that?"

"You create a stir, and you don't even try."

"At this point, I'd be content to live out my life in blissful anonymity."

"You never will as Julian Crane's wife."

"A minor set-back, I assure you."

Chuck touched her face. "You'll never be anonymous because you're you."

"This isn't me, Chuck. This is an image I project."

"Does anyone know the real you?" Chuck asked.

Theresa leaned against him, her cheek to his chest as they danced. Through the crowd, she could see Fox. Their dark eyes locked on each other.

"I thought someone did once," she whispered. "I could be myself with him. No illusions. My soul was stripped before him."

The room was dark. Truly appropriate. It matched her mood.

The day had ranked as one of the worst of her life. It was the day she watched her childhood dreams of happiness with Ethan slip away. It was his wedding day to another woman.

She had hoped for fate's intervention, but fate no longer smiled on her.

_Theresa pulled the covers around her and closed her eyes. Exhaustion threatened to overtake her as her mind drifted to unconsciousness. _

Wait.

_What was that sound?_

_The mattress shifted._

_She opened her eyes and she saw __i__ him /__i__ . It was difficult to make out his features, but she could tell that he was a nearly naked man._

_And he was climbing into bed with her!_

_She screamed! As loud as she could, she bellowed. __"Help!__ Someone please help me! Get out of here! Help me!"_

_She leapt out of bed. "What are you doing here? Get out of here! Someone help me, please!"_

_"Stop screaming, and get a grip." __So no-nonsense.__So full of attitude.__So…._

_"Fox?"_

_Her bedroom now had plenty of would-be rescuers, and all their attention was focused on her unwelcome visitor. _

_Immediately, Theresa was astounded by the fact that he neither cowered before the group of cranky people nor apologized. Instead, he pulled on his blue jeans over his boxers and zipped them. _

_His gaze remained on her the entire time, and she began to wonder if he could bore a hole through her. _

_Fox moved closer to her before speaking._

_"Hello, Step-mommy. I saw your picture in the paper." He appraised her, his gaze sweeping her body. He lifted a brow, a smirk planted on his face. "It didn't do you justice." _

_Theresa said __nothing,__ only stared._

_"But I guess you don't know who I am. In which case, let me introduce myself." He squared his shoulders and spoke with pride. "Nicholas __Foxworth__ Crane. Fox for short. I'm the second son of…" he stopped and reconsidered his words. A grin followed. "Wait a minute. I tell a lie. The truth is I'm the _first_son of Julian and Ivy_ Crane."

And thus began their slow dance.

They stumbled, stepped on each other's toes.

Fox no longer invaded her bedroom. Instead he invaded her workplace. Business wear replaced nightclothes. Daylight replaced darkness.

_The door of Theresa's office swung open. In walked Fox Crane armed with a broad grin and a silver tongue. _

_"It's customary to knock," Theresa said tersely as she looked up from the paperwork on her desk. __"Though I suppose I should be used to you barging in without announcing yourself."_

_"How's this for an announcement? I'm here, Step-mommy."_

_"Yes, thank you. I see that."_

_He strolled deeper into the office and took in the sights around him. She followed him with her eyes._

_"So this is how the other half lives. __Interesting."__ He walked around her desk and leaned against it. His hands rested on the solid mahogany, but his fingers toyed with a paperweight._

_Theresa almost snorted. "Oh, you mean the people who actually _work_ for__ a living?"_

_"There's nothing wrong with freeloading, Theresa. It would be a crime not to take advantage of the…" his voice dropped, "__..assets__ one has. Don't you agree?"_

_She rolled her eyes. "Julian, Jr., __go__ away."_

_"You liked my father well enough to marry him, but you don't like me very much, do you?"_

_Theresa leaned back in her chair. "Where do I begin with that one?"_

_He tilted his head. "I would say start at the beginning, but I don't have a very long attention span."_

_She cleared her throat. __"Stupidity, alcohol, lecher, no.__Any questions?"_

_"Just one.__ Do you always wear your hair up when you work?" He reached forward and lightly removed one of her hairpins. A stray curl fell from its secured location. _

_He held the pin between his thumb and forefinger. _

_"Give that back!" she hissed grabbing for it._

_Fox was faster and he moved his hand out of her grasp. With a boyish pronouncement, he denied her. _

_"No."_

It was night again. The world continued to spin whether she wanted it to or not. She would put on a brave façade once they reached the shelter, but for a few brief moments, she decided to allow herself some quiet contemplation.

Well, it _would_ have been quiet contemplation if not for the last minute decision that Fox would accompany her.

_"Are you going to sulk the whole way there?" Fox's arrogant tone set Theresa on edge._

_"Leave me alone."_

_Fox patted her thigh. "I would, but it's so much more entertaining to get a reaction out of you."_

_"When I was in third grade, the little boy who sat behind me in class used to pull my braids."_

_"What did you do?"_

_"Well," Theresa replied with a smile. "I punched him out." She pushed his hand away._

_"I bet the boys loved you in high school." _

_"So glad you're having fun at my expense, but that's not what tonight is about." Theresa glared at Fox. The impatient tapping of her heeled shoe was muffled by the __lush__ carpeting of the limousine. __"You need to know that this isn't a game."_

_Fox stretched his arms on the back of the seat and noted how Theresa shrank away from him. __"Who's playing a game, Step-mommy? Those people don't have homes. I get that."_

Theresa joined the ranks of those who never knew what to expect from Fox Crane. The others expected the worst, and, true to form, they got it. Strange how when she expected the worst from him, she got the best.

Maybe that was what his problem was. People didn't think he had any depth, any heart. She knew differently, though.

If only he'd allow that side of himself to show more.

But it was then that she started to truly see him, and he was beautiful.

_The lights in the living room were dimmed, but Theresa could still discern his features. Though usually impeccable in appearance, he looked a mess as he poured himself a brandy. His shirt, __untucked__ and unbuttoned, was wrinkled. __Nor did wear any shoes._

_Even more than the outside difference in his appearance was something that emanated from within in._

_His eyes did not have their usual twinkle of mischief. His mood was somber, melancholy._

_Theresa considered turning away. He'd not seen her yet, after all. Something grabbed her, though. __Held her in place.__ He needed to hear what was on her heart. He needed to hear that he _was_ worthwhile._

_"I watched you tonight with those children, and I owe you an apology. I was so worried that you wouldn't take it seriously, but when I saw you reading to them, I knew I was wrong. That little girl__.."_

_"Sarah."__ He spoke her name softly._

_Theresa was surprised by his tone. It lacked its usually sarcastic edge. __"Yes, Sarah__S__he just adored you."_

_She watched as he seemed to shrug off her__ words. _

_"I'm not a do-gooder like my brother. I'm a feel-__gooder__. Being around those kids felt __good__. So as you can se__e, it was purely selfish on my __part."__ With that, he took a gulp of the liquor. _

_Theresa refused to allow his dismissal. __"But it wasn't something you _ha_d__ to do." She took a deep breath. "I just underestimated you, and I truly am sorry."_

Light illuminated the living room once again. Theresa sat curled up on the sofa with the morning paper and a cup of hot cocoa. The house was blissfully quiet that Saturday morning, and she intended to enjoy it.

_"Mr. Crane!" Theresa heard Phyllis say. Her voice carried from the foyer._

_At least the house had been quiet._

_"Good morning, Phyllis. You look especially fetching in that pea green." _

_Theresa rolled her eyes. She could just imagine the maid blushing. Nicholas Crane was __smooth,__ and he had no shame._

_"Are my mother and father in the living room?"_

_"No, Sir. Your mother has gone to the spa for the day, and your father left for a pleasure trip."_

_"I see." _

_The newspaper Theresa held slipped from her fingers._

I see.

_It wasn't what he said but the way he said it. _

_Disappointment._

_Sadness._

_"Happy Birthday, Mr. Crane." _

_Phyllis's heels clicked as she left._

_"Right.__ Happy Birthday to me," Theresa heard him mutter._

_The front door opened and closed. He was gone, but the impression he left was indelible. _

_Something had to be done._

Confetti swirled as it fell. Vivid colors, music, laughter. It was all a glorious memory as the last guests left the surprise party.

It had taken some doing, true, but it was worth seeing the smile on his face. No one should spend his or her birthday alone.

_"I can't believe you would do this for me, Theresa."_

_"So much for being the stereotypical wicked step-mother," Theresa replied with a grin. Her face felt flushed under his intense gaze. "I'm going to see if I can find some candy from the piñata you broke."_

_With a skip in her step, she retreated to the living room. Most of the furniture had been carried out to make way for party guests. It seemed incredibly spacious without the crowd of people, and in her extremely good mood, she slipped off her shoes and slid on the floor in her socks._

_She giggled at her own clumsiness as she knocked the edge of the serving cart. Sometimes she still felt like such a child._

_It was then that she realized he watched her. From the corner of her eyes, she saw him lean against the doorway, the tiniest hints of a smile on his face._

_"Ethan is a damn fool."_

_"Yes he is." _

_Fox's eyebrow shot up. "I didn't think you'd actually agree with me. Isn't Ethan perfect in your book?"_

_She shrugged. "I used to think so. Having some time and distance from him has helped me to see otherwise."_

_"Good. You don't need to be with him. He'd always be trying to contain you, make you fit into the mold of what he wanted."_

_"Oh, Mr. Individualism speaks," Theresa teased._

_Fox walked to the serving cart and poured a glass of sangria from the pitcher. "It's not such a great thing, depending on who you ask. My parents, for example, rue the day I was born."_

_"That's not true."_

_"Then why weren't they here tonight?"_

_"Because they're damn fools."_

_"It seems fitting I would be a hell-raiser. __The perfect symbol of their hellish union."_

_"Well, I, for one, am glad you're here. You don't make my life easier, but you sure do make it more interesting."_

_He ran a hand through his blond hair. "You better stop that."_

_"Stop what?" she asked._

_"Being nice to me.__ You make it difficult to maintain my sardonic wit."_

_"Well then, in that case, I'll try to accommodate you with a few more insults than usual tomorrow." She casually straightened the collar of his shirt._

_Fox laid his hand on top of __hers,__ and she stopped. She nearly gasped when she saw the intensity of his gaze fixed upon her._

_The distance between them closed considerably, she noticed, but it didn't matter. She wanted to be closer._

_And closer still._

_The thought resonated in her head like the forcefulness of drums. _

_This could _not _happen between them, but it_ was _happening_.

_"I never did get any candy." _

_Her statement broke the spell._

_He backed away. "I think I saw the pile over there," he pointed before walking the selection of candy from the piñata that littered the top of the misplaced coffee table. "Pick your poison." _

_"__Mmmm__The chocolate ones with the gooey caramel inside.__ Those are my favorites."_

_Fox sorted through the candy pile and found the wrapped sweets that Theresa craved. He brought a few pieces to her. Immediately, she __unwrapped__ the gold colored plastic from one and bit into it, its sweetness washing over her. _

_"This must be what heaven is like," she sighed. _

_"Only not so messy," he replied with a grin._

_"Huh?"_

_"You have a little bit of caramel on your chin."_

_"Oh."_

_"Allow me." He wiped the caramel from her chin and then licked his finger. "Delicious."_

They were still alone, but the cheerfulness of the post-party Crane living room melted away into the somber colors of dark stained glass, stone, wood, and make-shift flower arrangements.

Theresa sat on the church pew, numb. Fox sat next to her.

_"You know, Ethan asked me to marry him in this very church. Two years later, almost to the day, I watched him marry Gwen here. It just didn't seem to right to me, but I was powerless to stop it."_

_"You did the best thing you could, Theresa. You let it go."_

_"How do I let this one go, Fox? How? Miguel is married, but he married the wrong woman. They all came at him, pressured him to 'do the right thing.' They didn't care about what he wanted. They just picked at him and picked at him until there was nothing left for him to fight for."_

_Fox rubbed her shoulder. "I know you want him to be happy. I want the same thing for his sister."_

Close.

So close but not close enough.

Her back was to the wall. She was surrounded by the familiar in her bedroom—and the unfamiliar with Fox.

Sensation after sensation, touch after touch.

She had nowhere to run, but she didn't want to run. Not anymore.

The promise of so much more was contained within his kisses.

_"Are you trying to seduce me?"_

_"If you have to ask, I must be doing something wrong."_

But he did everything right.

_He nuzzled her ear, and then his lips were on her neck, lightly sucking. She drew her arms around him, pulling him closer. "I think we're making a mistake."_

_"You might learn from this mistake," he murmured in her ear. _

_"And what would I learn?"_

_"What it's like to be desired. __Truly desired.__ I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in the world."_

The faintest hints of the impending morning began to glow in the night sky. Like clockwork, he stirred, trying not to disturb his sleeping lover.

He knew he must get back to his room before the household awoke.

_Slowly, he began to slide out of bed but stopped when he felt her small hand on his back. "Don't go," she whispered, a subtle plea contained within those two words._

_He stopped, turned toward her, and stroked her face. "It's for the best. They can't find me here." His lips caressed hers, an unspoken urgency in his kiss. "But tonight—_tonight _I'll be back."_

But he wouldn't be with her tonight.

There was a Fox.

There was a Theresa.

But there was no Fox and Theresa.

Resa blinked, suddenly acutely aware that she'd been so quiet with Chuck. It was utter foolishness to dwell on the past, she knew, but so hard to move forward when the wounds were so fresh.

Across the room sat Fox with a woman Theresa was sure he would soon take as a lover. He infuriated her, made a mockery of her feelings for him, and he didn't even know it.

"You said your soul was stripped before him."

"It was an illusion, after all."

Theresa closed her eyes, and the illusion faded.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

She danced, and he watched.

Theresa affected him.

To his utter damnation she affected him.

It was a slow build.

Smoldering embers ignited.

They burned.

He burned.

He thought he was going to explode. She could scorch him with just a glance.

It was torturous, but she'd cast her spell on him long ago.

_When Fox found himself thinking of her at night, just a few rooms away, he retreated to the swimming pool. Working off the energy helped him to find, if not peace, then at least a brief reprieve from the onslaught of pure, unadulterated lust he experienced whenever she was near._

_In school, he excelled in swimming. Actually, it was one of the few things he did excel at in academia. Gambling and seduction were hardly considered appropriate school behavior, after all._

_He had just finished his fourth lap in the heated indoor swimming pool when he heard the footsteps. __Soft but sure._

_He recognized her gait without even looking. Everything about her had begun to haunt him. The way her expressive eyes challenged him, how she unconsciously licked her full lips, the way stray strands of her dark hair would fall about her neck when she pulled it back, how she believed in the best of him. _

_He needed away from that. _

_"Go away. I was here first." His voice was gruff as he swam to the edge of the pool._

_She dropped the towel she carried on a chaise lounge and pulled off her slippers. "It's a big pool." _

_"It's my house."_

_"It's my house, too." She frowned at him as she unbound her robe. "What's wrong with you? All I want to do is swim a little bit before bed. You'll be rid of me before you know it."_

_Her bathing suit, navy blue in color, was modest, but still revealed more of her skin than he'd seen before. He sucked in a breath as she sat on the edge of the pool near him and dipped her slender legs in the water._

_The problem was he wanted those slender legs around him. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair, so often bound, and __explore__ the rest of her, as well._

_She was being perfectly reasonable, and he knew it. Still, he'd come to the pool to escape his thoughts of her, and there she was in the flesh. That certainly defeated his purpose._

_"Come on, Theresa. Swimming? I heard you tried to drown yourself about a year ago. I'm shocked your mother would let you anywhere near a substantial body of water."_

_She lifted her chin. "And I'm surprised that your mother, knowing firsthand how terrible chlorine can be for bleached blond hair, lets you anywhere near a pool." _

_Fox fought the urge to laugh. __Resa__ certainly had a sharp __tongue,__ and she gave as good as she got. There was nothing he hated more than a woman who couldn't or wouldn't fight back. It made him want her all the more._

_He ran a hand over his wet hair. "Lay off the hair. It's natural."_

_Her small fingers delved into his hair. "Sure_ _it is." _

_If she had continued touching him for another instant, he knew he was in danger of grabbing her and kissing her hard. As it was, she slipped into the pool and went completely underwater before reemerging, taking the option, but not the temptation, away from him. _

_"So what do you suppose Ethan and Gwen are doing right now?" Fox treaded water and waited for a reaction._

_He got very little._

_"I can't hear you," Theresa sniffed before she dove underwater and swam to the deep end of the pool._

_But Fox knew she heard. He lifted himself out of the pool, sat on the edge, and watched her. _

_Theresa came up for air and shook the water from her face. _

_"You're a liar, Step-mommy."_

_"Of course I am. And don't call me that."_

_"What? __Liar or step-mommy?"_

_"Step-mommy.__ I can handle the liar part."_

_"Why not call you that? It's what you are."_

_"I don't particularly like being reminded that I'm your step-mother," she admitted. "It seems so…"_

_"Kinky?" he supplied with a grin._

_She shivered despite the warmth of the water. "No. Wrong." She began her lap back across the pool, though this time she did a backstroke. _

_Fox cleared his throat. "You spend more time with me than you do with my father. Have you even tried to make it work with him?"_

_Theresa was taken aback. "Why would I_ want _to try?"_

_He looked away. "God, you sound like my mother. Why do you stay, __Resa__?"_

_"I guess I figure that if I have to be miserable, then Julian can be miserable right along with me. After all, misery loves company."_

_"You're…miserable?"_

_"Not like I used to be," she confessed, "and a lot of that has to do with you. You keep me on my toes, Fox, and definitely make life more interesting."_

_His brows furrowed in disbelief. "You've said that before."_

_"And you still sound surprised." She reached the shallow end of the pool and studied Fox. How she wished she could take away those demons that so obviously chased him. He wouldn't let her near enough, though. Whenever things took a serious turn, he usually either insulted her or hit on her. _

_But Fox Crane was nothing, if not a walking surprise. _

_"When I was a little boy, my mother and father were always so relieved when the school breaks were over. They couldn't wait to send me away. When I got older, I pretty much stopped coming home, but when I did show, they couldn't have cared less except for the fact that they were worried how I was going to screw up their lives this time."_

_She swam to the edge close to him. "Maybe if you didn't have such a huge chip on your shoulder, they'd find it easier to be around you."_

_"And maybe if __they'd accept__ the fact that I'm not like my brother, nor will I ever be, they'd be better off. Even my father compares me to Ethan, and Ethan's not even his son."_

_Theresa's heart sank. "I don't have the answers. I wish I did. But is there something you want to do?" Unconsciously, she reached out and touched his leg, an intended gesture of comfort. _

_Fox felt electricity, tension, and want.__ Her touch was anything but comforting._

_He lifted a brow. "Well…"_

_"I meant," she added quickly, her face flushed as she pulled away, "something that interests you. __Something for you to pursue.__A goal, a special project, something meaningful."_

_"There's only one thing I want, Theresa, and it's the one thing I can't have."_

_She retreated and resumed her lap. "Maybe that's why you want it so much."_

_"Or maybe I want it because it's worthwhile."_

_"What do you…__ouch!__" _

_Theresa's painful cry grabbed Fox's attention. "What is it?"_

_"My leg," she replied through clenched teeth as she struggled to stay afloat. "Oh God, it hurts!"_

_Fox dove in and swam to her. He situated himself behind her and placed an arm around her arms and chest. She struggled against him, whimpering. _

_"Don't fight me. Just try to relax. I know it hurts, baby."_

_He guided them to the edge of the pool and lifted her up to the side. He then pulled himself up and turned her body around. _

_"Which leg is it, __Resa__?"_

_Tears slid down her cheeks. __"My…my left one.__Oooooh__The calf."_

_He propped her foot on his lap, which allowed her foot to be elevated. His large hands closed around the calf, massaging her muscle. "It's in knots. We've got to work them out." He spoke gently offering what little comfort he could. _

_She looked away from him, her fists clenched from the pain._

_He tried to distract her. "When I was a kid, I used to get these growing pains in my legs. That's what __Pilar__ called them. She said I was growing too fast, and it was my body's way of reacting. All I knew was that they hurt like hell. I'd wake up from them in the middle of the night. I learned that hot cocoa and a good massage could work wonders."_

_She let out a deep breath. The pain was subsiding. _

_"I'm glad you were here tonight. If you'd not been…"_

_He shuddered. "I don't even want to think about that." He closed his eyes, a prayer went unspoken. _

_He opened them. _

_Strange.__ He wasn't a praying man; wasn't entirely sure he believed in it, but he felt compelled to offer his thanks nonetheless._

_Theresa wiped the tears from her face. "It's so much better. Thank you." _

_"My pleasure."_

_"You have amazing hands." The words tumbled out before she could stop them._

_"Imagine how amazing they are when they're being used for more pleasurable pursuits than relieving leg cramps." _

_"I have," she replied softly._

_Fox's eyes widened. __"Oh really?"_

_A flush worked its way over Theresa's face. "That_ so _didn't come out right. What I meant to say was…"_

_"What you meant to say," __he__ interrupted, "is that you've been thinking about me like I've been thinking of you."_

_"N-no.__ That's not it at all. I—" _

_He placed a finger over her lips._

_"Liar."_

_Theresa's heart pounded. He made the recrimination sound like the most seductive endearment. _

_Fox bridged the distance between them, moving closer to her, though her legs were still on top of him. His right hand slid from her calf, up her thigh._

_She couldn't concentrate when he touched her like that. "You've been…you've been thinking about me?"_

_"I can't stop." His voice was low and husky in her ear. "That's why I came here tonight. __To work off some of this energy."_

_"Then I showed up. No wonder you didn't want me around."_

_"That's my problem, __Resa__. I_ do _want you around. I want it too much. Which leads me to_ another _problem__. I go after what I want."_

_She stroked his face, her thumb resting against the cleft of his chin. "That's not a problem."_

_"What are you saying?"_

_She pulled closer to him and leaned her forehead against his. "What I'm saying is that I want the same thing as you, Fox." Her small hands slid down his chest, and he groaned. "I want to_ feel. _Show me what it's like to feel again."_

_He knew then that if just her words were enough to arouse him, then the reality of touching her would kill him. _

But what a way to go.

_Fox's mouth came down on hers, taking absolute ownership. There was no hesitation on his part, no trepidation. He'd been starved for her, and he intended to feast._

_Theresa gasped at his boldness, but her feeling of surprise was soon replaced by a sense of utter delight. She'd always thought him to be boastful, but it seemed he had every reason to be confident. _

She loved kissing him.

_Theresa parted her lips and allowed him the access he wanted so desperately._

_Fox groaned in gratification. His tongue sparred with hers, filling him with an aching need. He knew that tasting her and touching her would be pleasurable, but he'd been unprepared with the feeling of intoxication and possessiveness he experienced. And though he might have been drunk with desire, he knew one thing above all else. She was made for him. __Just him._

_Theresa's heart slammed in her chest. She'd been numb for so long and had tried to bury this side of herself. Fox was uncovering her though, releasing her from her self-imposed exile. It was then that she realized that he didn't just want him anymore. She _needed _him._

_"I need you," he whispered hoarsely. It brought a smile to her face to hear her own thoughts echoed in his words._

_"I need you, too. __So much."__ She moved on top of him, straddled his lap, and moaned when she felt the evidence of his need for her through the thin material of their bathing suits. Instinctively, she moved against him, which fueled his desire as well as her own._

_He traced kisses down the column of her neck. "What are you doing to me?"_

_She raked her fingernails down the hard muscle of his back reveling in how it felt to touch his warm skin. __"Driving you crazy."_

_He moaned as she touched him, deepening their kiss. God how he wanted her so badly! He throbbed with desire to make her his in every way. _

_"Whatever you want to call it, __don't__ stop." He kissed a trail back to her lips before he buried his hands in her wet hair. He angled her head to one side so that his tongue could penetrate her more deeply._

_He devoured her._

_Theresa wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for dear life as his lips caressed hers, his hands sliding up and down her back, pulling her desperately against him. __Fox was fast approaching the point of no return. This woman—this amazing woman-- was so avid and willing in his arms, accepting everything he offered her and giving in return. He never imagined just kissing her would elicit so many sensations, elevating him to such feverishness. _

_This was what he'd been waiting his whole life to feel._

_He pulled back slightly and stared at her, mesmerized by her beauty, enchanted by her very essence._

_"What's wrong?" she __asked,__ her voice tiny._

_He smiled at her and ran his thumb over her lips. "For once, everything is right."_

_"You taste so good," she murmured._

_"Theresa, I want to be with you so much."_

_"Then why'd you stop? Kiss me," she ordered before she lightly brushed her lips against his._

_"We have to be careful. Being out here in the open, while exciting, might be hard to explain if we get caught. And then there's the matter of protection."_

_She nodded, grateful that he retained his senses for she certainly hadn't. "Do you have any?"_

_"Yes. I'm like a boy scout. __Always prepared.__ I just don't have any in here."_

_"They don't make boy scouts like you," she sighed as she forced herself to move away from him. "Give me ten minutes, Fox. And then come to me."_

_"This will be the longest ten minutes of my life," he groaned._

"This has been the longest ten minutes of my life," sniffed Mary Elizabeth Brewington.

"Surely my company isn't _that_ objectionable."

Mary Elizabeth crossed her slender arms. "It wouldn't be except that you're staring at Theresa. _Again_. I know you told me you are nothing like your brother, but it looks to me that the two of you have someone in common."

"Ethan's a fool."

"Yes. I've heard how Theresa was engaged to him and sold him out to the tabloids. When he was disinherited, she went after your father. She has quite the reputation."

"It wasn't like that," Fox corrected. "And considering that you have quite a reputation yourself, I assumed you'd show restraint when discussing the topic."

"Touché. I doubt there's any one of us here tonight who is innocent. Tell me this, though. What is it like having such a young step-mother? Does she give you motherly love, or are there difficulties with the blended family?" Mary Elizabeth maintained a conversational tone, but her words set Fox on edge.

"That's enough."

"It certainly is. Since you're so interested in what's going on with your step-mother, I want you to take a long, hard look." Mary Elizabeth held up her hand and indicated Theresa dancing slowly and closely with Chuck. "You see, Nicholas? You really didn't need to worry about her. Theresa seems perfectly fine."

Fox grimaced. "But Chuck Wilson? Of all men, Chuck Wilson? He might be a good tennis player, but talking to him is about as exciting as watching a snail race."

"If he's good in the sack, I'm sure Theresa would be willing to overlook a few deficiencies. Sex doesn't require talking."

"Theresa is _not_ going to sleep with Chuck Wilson!"

He spoke with more force than he intended.

Mary Elizabeth leaned back and stared at her date. "What is this, Nicholas? We've spent more time this evening talking about your step-mother than anything else!"

"I just don't want to see her make a fool of my father. That's all."

"I never took you as the dutiful son type."

"Theresa is her own worst enemy. She doesn't look before she leaps. She impulsive, spunky, so full of life, but delicate at the same time."

Mary Elizabeth fought to maintain her composure. "Your father doesn't seem too concerned."

"He's too blind to see what's right in front of him."

"Must run in the family," Mary Elizabeth muttered. "I have an idea. Let your brother take care of Theresa, and let _me_ take care of _you_." Her lips grazed his, teasing him with the promise of so much more if he'd only accept.

But Mary Elizabeth's words were of much more interest to Fox than her kisses, and he pulled away. "Ethan?"

"He just showed. From the looks of him, he's already spotted your step-mother, and his wife isn't happy in the least."

Fox looked around the room and finally saw Ethan. He and Gwen were dancing, though his half-brother didn't look particularly pleasant. A scowl etched his features, making him appear older than his twenty-seven years.

Fox smirked. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer couple."

"Do you want Theresa to get back together with your brother?"

"Half-brother, and I don't really care what Theresa does. It's her life."

Mary Elizabeth frowned. Nicholas Crane was a walking, talking contradiction. He was sullen, like a child who'd fought over a favorite toy only to give it up claiming he didn't want it anymore. The words were hollow, devoid of reason, and the most bold-faced lies she had ever heard.

"Why didn't I see this before? God, I've been such an idiot!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You're in love with her, aren't you? You're in love with Theresa."


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Fox squinted. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me. I said you're in love with Theresa."

"That's what I thought," Fox replied as he ran his hand over his blond hair.

Mary Elizabeth frowned as impatience surged through her. _Unbelievable_. Where was the reaction? The fireworks? "Aren't you going to deny it?"

"Pffft. Deny _what_?"

"What I just said." She slid her fingers up and down the lapel of his jacket before she looked up to meet his gaze. "You are in love with your father's wife."

"Listen, sweetie, you know what they all say about me. In fact, I'm banking that's why you're with me tonight." He shrugged. "I love women, and women love me. I make no bones about it. But there's a big difference in being a connoisseur of women, and being in love with one."

"Smooth, Nicholas. Very slick, but you've not given me an answer. Perhaps if I were to just go and ask Theresa myself."

"Stay away from her, Mary Elizabeth."

Fox's abrupt words gave Mary Elizabeth pause. The corners of her mouth lifted knowingly. A crack in the armor….

"Why?"

Fox's words were measured as he regained his equilibrium. "Because you'll make a fool of yourself, and we both know how unforgiving our friends can be."

_Liar_.

"I don't see what difference it would make. You've already taken care of making a fool of me by fixating on Theresa. I'm not used to playing second fiddle."

"Get used to it."

Mary Elizabeth gasped.

"You can't always be the center of attention," Fox continued. "Theresa is family. So I've looked out for her tonight. Big deal."

The blonde woman lifted her chin, her delicate features set in a hard line. "Well, I have to hand it to Theresa. She was right about your lack of manners."

"Do you prefer subtle digs to blatant ones? And here I thought you said you believed in being straight-forward. But then again, I guess that only applies when you are hearing what you want to hear."

"Don't bother calling me, Nicholas."

"I've lost your number already."

"But I've got yours." With that Mary Elizabeth stood tall and squared her shoulders. Her eyes swept over him once more before she sauntered away.

"Well, Crane. You're batting 0 for 2 today."

* * *

"Would you like something to drink?" Chuck asked Theresa as the song ended.

"My throat _is_ getting a little dry," she confessed.

Chuck lifted an eyebrow. "Champagne?"

"No thank you, but a club soda sounds nice," she replied as she took his proffered arm and they walked off the dance floor.

"You know, I've been kicking myself for three years now," Chuck said with a smile as he passed her a fluted glass of liquid.

"You have? Why?"

"For taking no for an answer."

She smiled. "I was a little distracted by someone else at the time."

"True, and I guess that hasn't changed. You're still distracted by someone else."

Theresa averted her gaze.

"Look, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm just putting you on notice, Mrs. Crane."

Stunned, Theresa met his stare once again. "Oh, and what are you telling me?"

"That I'm not giving up so easily. I want to get to know you better, Theresa. You're a remarkable woman."

Theresa patted his forearm. "Chuck, I appreciate the sentiment. I really do, but I come with a lot of baggage. I would never ask you to deal with all of that."

"You didn't have to ask. I'm offering."

"I'm also a married woman. That can't be swept under the rug."

"But everyone knows that you and Julian don't," he searched for the right words, "see eye to eye."

"No, but.."

"Let me help you forget about Ethan."

Theresa shook her head. "I'm not pining for Ethan. Sure I have regrets, and I've wondered from time to time what our lives would be like if Bermuda never happened, but Bermuda did happen."

"Do you think you'd be happy?"

"Knowing then what I know now, probably not. Ethan and I lived in a fairytale world, and it was beautiful. It was like a garden. The most wondrous, amazing, flourishing garden. But do you know what always creeps into a garden? Weeds. We had no idea of how to deal with the problems we faced. I was too immature to be planning a life with him, and he was too wishy-washy to be planning a life with me."

"You're amazing."

"No, I'm not. Why am I even telling you this stuff? You don't want to hear it, but I suppose you _need_ to hear it. I'm not the kind of woman you want to take home to your mother, Chuck. Look at my track record. I got drunk, married my fiancé's ex-father, got pregnant, and confessed to his so-called murder."

Chuck ran his fingers down Theresa's bare arm. "There'd never be a dull moment with you around."

"You need more than excitement. You need an emotional connection. Can you really see us having that?"

"Well," his voice dropped, "we could have a physical one."

Theresa swallowed hard finally understand the man's ardor. "I see. _That's_ what this is about."

"People have been brought together for less noble reasons. You're not a little girl anymore. You know the ways of the world."

"You're right. I do. But just because I'm 'damaged goods' doesn't mean that I want to be treated like it."

"Whoa. Wait a second," he said touching her chin. "I don't think you're damaged goods, Theresa. Just a beautiful woman in a loveless marriage. You can't blame a guy for trying."

"Sometimes I think I _am_ still a little girl. A little girl trapped in a woman's body. A little girl who wants to reclaim her innocence but doesn't know how. A little girl who wants to believe in fairy tales and happily ever after and fate. Sometimes I want to be Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald again, but I can never be her again. Circumstances saw to that, so this is who I am. Theresa Crane doesn't believe in those things."

"You've become cynical."

"What do I have to believe in anymore, Chuck?" Theresa sighed.

"Theresa, I hope I'm not interrupting," Mary Elizabeth said as she strolled over. "I was just hoping we'd get the chance to chat."

"Oh, hello, Mary Elizabeth. Do you know Chuck Wilson?"

Mary Elizabeth flashed a smile at Theresa's handsome companion and took his extended hand. "Oh yes, we're familiar with each other. It's good to see you, Chuck."

"The pleasure is all mine," he murmured.

Theresa watched the exchange between the two. "I forget what a small world it is that we live in."

"Yes, it is. There's lots of…_sharing_…that goes on, isn't there, Theresa?" Mary Elizabeth's tone belied a double entendre.

"If you'll excuse me," Chuck interjected, "I see someone I really must speak with."

"Oh, of course," Theresa replied.

"I fear I owe you an apology," Mary Elizabeth said in a grave tone.

"Oh, it's okay. You didn't chase Chuck away."

_I did that all on my own_.

Mary Elizabeth sighed. "No, this isn't about Chuck. I need to apologize for something else."

Theresa's brows furrowed. "What's that?"

"I did something tonight that I'm not very proud of, and it involves you."

"Me?"

"And Nicholas. After your little interlude with your step-son, I accused him of having feelings for you. That was, of course, beyond ridiculous. I mean, you and he would never…" her voice trailed off.

"I…Oh wow. I don't know what to say."

And she didn't. Part of her wanted to scream out all the thoughts and feelings she'd kept hidden for Fox for so long. Part of her wanted to pull a blanket over her head and hide. And then there was another part of her, the prideful part, who wanted to stand toe to toe with this woman who would soon become Fox's lover.

"You really don't have to say anything. I realized my mistake as soon as the words flew out of my mouth. We had a great laugh over it. It really broke the ice between us."

Theresa's eyes stung. They were _laughing_ at her?

"How…um…fortunate for you."

"He's a gorgeous man, Theresa. Between you and me, I can't wait to leave this place and get him alone. How on earth do you stand living in the same house with him?" She laughed lightly. "Silly me. I keep forgetting that he's your step-son. For anything to happen between the two of you would be nearly incestuous, and I'm sure you'd never want to go that route again after what happened with Ethan." Her smile froze, icy and artificial.

Theresa set her glass on a passing waiter's tray. Crisply, she challenged the other woman's words. "Let's not play that game. You didn't forget _anything_. In fact, you've gone out of your way to take your little digs."

"Really, Theresa."

"No, no. You're baiting me. Why is that, Mary Elizabeth?"

"Interesting choice of words, Theresa. Baiting? I suppose you would know about baiting. See, I know your kind. You were one of the little girls with the designer knock-offs who was determined to meet, trap, and marry Prince Charming. The problem is, you'll never belong. Never."

Theresa held up her hands indicating the grandeur of the ballroom. "Yet here I am. It's true that I may not have been brought up attending soirees and polo matches. I never even had a designer gown until just a couple of years ago, but that doesn't matter."

Mary Elizabeth smirked. "You say that as you live in the mansion on the hill and sleep on satin sheets, no doubt."

"Well, you've got me there, but it's obvious that money hasn't done you much good. I guess the only thing you've ever had to wear twice is a sour expression."

"We'll see who's wearing the sour expression by the time the night is over, Theresa."

Theresa watched in disgust as the other woman walked away.

_How could he? How could Fox spend time with that woman, laughing with her, dancing with her, making plans to__…_ Theresa couldn't even complete the thought. It was too upsetting.

Her eyes scanned the room for him, but she didn't see him.

Like all the others she'd loved, he was gone. Her father, Ethan, now Fox—none of them ever stayed, and none of them ever really said goodbye.

It was then that Theresa felt a hand on her elbow. She expected to turn and see Chuck, but it was, instead, the last person she anticipated.

"You look like you could use a friend," he said knowingly.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Theresa eyed Bruce with suspicion as she pulled away from his touch. "So you think I look like I could use a friend? Well, if I happen to see one, I might consider your advice."

The older man smiled. "I thought we _were_ old friends, Theresa."

"You're Julian's friend, not mine," Theresa reminded him. "I don't mean to be rude, but seeing you is a reminder of things I would rather forget."

"I can take all of that away if you'll just dance with me, Theresa."

Theresa snapped her fingers. "Oh? Just like that?" she asked sarcastically.

"Pretty close to it. Knowledge is power." Bruce lifted a craggy brow. "I have the feeling that your opinion about me might change considerably. In fact, I just might turn out to be the best friend you've ever had."

Theresa faltered. Did he really know something?

"What do you have to lose?" he coaxed.

What indeed? Everything of beauty from her old life had already been marred. The only beautiful thing from her new life, her relationship with Fox, was nothing more than an illusion.

"Fine. I'll dance with you," Theresa consented.

"That's my girl." Bruce squeezed her hand lightly and led her to the floor. "I'm so glad I had the chance to see you tonight. It's been a long time since I've been in Harmony. Try to stay away from the ex-wife as much as possible. Still, I wanted to make it a point to see you."

"I can't imagine I made much of an impression on you," Theresa replied coolly as they began to move to the music. "There must be a whole bevy of young women whose lives Julian has ruined."

"Not a match made in heaven, I see," Bruce chuckled. "I really do owe you an apology, and I see I shouldn't have waited so long. What happened to you in Bermuda is actually my fault."

He spoke so nonchalantly, so cavalierly, that his comment almost slid past her. _Almost._

Theresa was taken aback. "What?"

Bruce back tracked. "Well, I didn't pour the champagne down your throat or Julian's for that matter, but I did help matters along a bit."

"How did you _help matters_?"

"That night you showed up at the hotel looking for Julian, a bunch of us had been holding up the bar, celebrating our freedom."

Theresa's nose wrinkled.

Bruce's story continued, his voice throaty. "We were finally free from our wives, you see. Of course, we were looking for some entertainment."

Theresa rolled her eyes. This man was wasting her time. He didn't know anything. He probably only wanted to brag about his prowess. "What does this have to do with Julian and me?"

"We saw you in that low-cut dress. Julian said he knew you, but we weren't buying it. So my buddies and I made a bet with Julian that he couldn't get you to bed."

"What?" Theresa hissed indignantly.

Bruce continued, "Thought for sure it would be the easiest money we ever made. Even more than that, we'd knock Jules down a notch or two. All in all, it was supposed to be a fun night."

"I can't believe this!"

"It's crass. I know, and I'll be the first one to admit it. We were all newly bachelors again, and you were…"

"A nice piece of ass," Theresa replied frostily.

"I wouldn't have put it exactly that way, but yes. We all would've liked a crack at you, but Julian claimed you. Wouldn't stop blustering that he could seduce you. We wanted him to prove it. When you get to be my age, you become willing to live vicariously through others."

"That's disgusting." Theresa would have pulled away if Bruce's grip hadn't been so strong.

"Just wait till you hit middle age. Hell, fifty-five isn't even middle age, is it? Don't know many 110 year old men."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it! Why…how…I would _never_ have slept with Julian willingly. Never!"

"That's not what I saw, Theresa. Fact was you were carrying on with him so much, I was afraid he would actually succeed."

_"I really shouldn't have anymore, Mr. Crane. I'm here to talk about Ethan." Her tongue felt unusually heavy._

_"We'll talk about Ethan. It's just nice to have a drink with a friend. It makes me more_ responsive _to suggestions." Julian filled her glass to its brim and watched as Theresa took another drink._

_"The bubbles tickle my nose!"_

_"That's why they call it bubbly."_

_"About Ethan…"_

"I didn't go with him so I could sleep with him. It was so I could convince him to take Ethan back into the family!"

Bruce sighed. "Silly little girl. Did you really think Julian was about to do that, or that he even had the _power_ to do that? He wasn't going to stand against his father."

"I know that now," Theresa admitted.

"Anyhow, like I said, I was afraid he would actually succeed, and I'd invested a considerable sum of money on him _not_ succeeding in bedding you. So I brought a bottle of champagne to his suite after the two of you went upstairs, but I added a little something. Thought it would put both of you out like a light."

"Wait a second. You tried to _drug_ us?" Theresa felt the blood drain from her face. "Why? How could you? What a horrible thing to do!"

"That's true, but it was all in good fun. Like I said, I wanted to knock Julian down a peg or two. He was always talking about his latest conquest, so I wanted to see him admit that he didn't even get to first base, let alone score a homerun."

_If only Bruce's questionable plan had worked._

Theresa fought down nausea. The thought of being with Julian made her feel queasy. Even though she had no memory of sleeping with him, it had been devastating to realize she'd given her body to him, shared the most personal of experiences with a lecher, and hurt the man she loved.

"Imagine my surprise when around 1:00 a.m., you and Julian came down to the bar, giggling. I must say I've never seen a grown man giggle like Julian did, but that's another story. You had a brochure in your hand for the twenty-four hour wedding chapel, so I offered to accompany the two of you."

"Why did you that when it was so obvious that we were drunk?" Theresa demanded.

"Bragging rights. I figured that since I lost the bet, I could at least gain a little satisfaction for myself in watching Julian say adios to his newfound freedom. I knew he was in for a killer hangover the next day, as well as some killer news if I played my cards right."

"But you hadn't lost the bet! Julian and I didn't…we didn't sleep together before coming down to the bar. I know that for a fact."

"You didn't?" Bruce's brows shot up in surprise. "Well, I'll be damned. Guess I didn't really need to help you to the justice of the peace, after all. Could've made Julian feel like a fool _without_ getting you to slip a ring on his finger."

Theresa's heart pounded in her ears. She barely heard Bruce's voice anymore. It seemed to emanate from a great distance, and her mind was lost in a fog.

"…So I went with you to the justice of the peace, vouched for you, toasted your happiness with the drugged champagne, and watched both of you crash as you felt the effects. Later, I tucked you in bed in his room, and stayed in the chair so I could be there first thing in the morning for all the fun."

Theresa tried to focus on the new information. "So what you're saying is that Julian and I…"

"Never slept together, unless you did it in Harmony. Damn. Julian Crane owes me some money now."

Tears stung Theresa's eyes. "So this has all been a…a…JOKE to you?"

He nodded ruefully. "A bad one."

"Why didn't you say something sooner? How could you let us live this lie? Do you have any idea of the lives that have been destroyed because of what happened in Bermuda?"

"I tried to tell Julian the morning after, but then your loved ones were forming a lynch mob, he was so distracted with something else, don't know what, and then there was the hurricane. Oh, and then Julian was 'dead' for a few months there. Then you were 'dead' for a little while there. I started to wonder if it really mattered anymore. After all, you did make out like a bandit, Mrs. Crane."

Theresa turned away from Bruce, numb. "My baby…my baby was _Ethan's_ baby."

Bruce didn't hear her, and he continued. "And by all rights, you shouldn't be Mrs. Crane."

The room spun, the sounds, the faces, a blur.

Knowledge was power to some, a weapon to others. It could cut deep, bleed a person. It could be beautiful like a rose and prick like thorns.

"Are you alright, Theresa?"

"You played with our lives, Bruce! You played with our lives!" Her outburst resonated over the perfectly scripted conversations and the pleasant music. "I've been nothing but a puppet!"

The room grew quiet as all eyes fell upon the two of them.

Bruce shrugged. "I said I was sorry."

"It's not enough! It will _never_ be enough!" Her right hand flew up to her forehead. She couldn't think straight. Emotions raged within her, conflicting ones, hurtful ones.

The past singed her, its increasing burn penetrating to the depths of her being.

Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald died that night in Bermuda, and from her ashes came Theresa Crane, a fraud, a woman who never should have existed.

Nothing in the past year and a half ever should have happened.

_Nothing._

_"And by all rights, you shouldn't be Mrs. Crane."_

The heartache she felt when she thought the baby she carried was Julian's should have been joy in anticipating a child conceived from love with Ethan. The fear of being discovered as Julian Crane's wife should have been happiness in planning her wedding to Ethan.

Alone. Reviled. Empty. Miserable.

_I am my own worst enemy._

And then from nowhere, it came, a small comfort in a sea of turmoil. His deep, smooth voice spoke up. "Carry on with what you were doing. My step-mother isn't feeling well tonight."

Reluctantly, the party-goers turned away and began to speak again, but there was little doubt about the topic of their conversations.

Theresa shook, the weight of Bruce's admission staggering her.

Fox placed an arm around her, steadied her, and led her from the room.

She wasn't sure when he'd reappeared, but she was relieved to have him there. Fox always gave her a balance, strength.

They walked to the foyer, which was, thankfully, empty. He guided her to a chair and knelt next to her as she sat.

His hands rested on her knees. "You okay?"

She didn't meet his gaze. "I'm…I'm fine," she replied weakly.

"No you're not. You look as pale as a debutante whose daddy has cut her credit line."

Theresa smiled weakly, though tears streamed down her cheeks. "I think that's exactly what happened. Something was taken away, but something was given back."

_Me. _

_And myself._

"What are you talking about, and what was going on with you and Bruce? I've never seen anyone ruffle your feathers like that—even my mother."

Past, present, and future intersected for Theresa.

_Do you believe in fate?_

A dance, a kiss, a broken heart, broken dreams.

New dreams. New kisses. New desires. New hopes.

Theresa regretted much, but as she looked at Fox, she knew she didn't regret being with him.

She ached to reach out to him, to just be closer to him for a few, brief moments. She loved him, wanted him, needed him.

And she never would have been with him if not for Bermuda.

Beautiful, poisonous Bermuda—both her chain and her deliverance.

How did she explain that to Fox?

For that matter, was it even worth explaining?

He'd reiterated to her over and over that their bond to each other was a physical one, not an emotional one. While that didn't stop her from falling in love with him, it was obvious those feelings were not reciprocated.

"I just got a little upset with something Bruce said. That's all. You can go now. I know that Mary Elizabeth will be expecting you."

Fox wasn't buying it. He had no idea of what upset her so terribly, but he'd never seen her come apart like that. It tore at him; in the deepest recesses of his heart and mind, it tore at him. He knew in that moment, he would have done anything to take her pain away, even if it meant bringing it upon himself.

_If only he could._

The thought unnerved him. He hated the idea of someone else exerting so much power over him, but he was captive to Theresa.

"Look I don't know where she is, and right now, I don't care." He cupped her wet face between his two hands. "Resa, what happened out there? And don't tell me that everything is fine, when I can see with my own two eyes that it isn't."

She gazed at his eyes and could see the sincerity of his words. She couldn't tell him. Not yet.

"Can you just hold me for a moment? Please?"

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. "I wish I could take it away, whatever it is," he whispered soothingly. "I would, Resa. I would."

"I know you would, but this—this isn't something that _anyone_ can take away. You were right when you said something inside of me was broken, Fox. You were so right."

Fox sucked in a breath. He realized then that he had hurt her with those words; he was furious with himself for it. "No, I wasn't. I was angry when I said it."

"But something was broken inside me, and I couldn't see it. I couldn't put my finger on it. But just now pieces of a puzzle came together, and everything--_everything_--has changed."

"You're talking in riddles, Theresa Crane," he said as he stood and brought her out of the chair with him.

"Lopez-Fitzgerald," she corrected as she looked up at him.

"What?" he asked as he wiped a tear from her face with the pad of his thumb.

"My name is Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald, and I l..."

"Get your hands off her, Fox!" The harsh tone startled Theresa.

They looked to the large French doors that led the party, and Fox rolled his eyes. Perfect. Just perfect.

His hold on Theresa tightened. "Long time no see, half-bro."


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Ethan Winthrop narrowed his blue eyes as he glared at his brother. "What part of _get your hands off her_ do you not understand, Fox?"

Fox rolled his eyes. "The part where it's any of your concern, Ethan."

"Let's go back inside. Theresa has her hands full," Gwen Hotchkiss Winthrop said, stepping out from behind her husband and crossing her arms sullenly.

"Like hell I'm going to leave her to this lecher," Ethan replied, fisting his hands.

He shook his head in disdain. Of all the things he expected to see, Theresa cozying up to his brother was not one of them. What was wrong with her? Nicholas Crane's reputation surely had preceded him, as had her own husband's reputation for his intolerance of infidelity. Though Ethan was sure things couldn't have gone very far with Theresa and his brother, it was unsettling nonetheless, to see them in an embrace. Her reputation was already sullied; she needed no more controversy.

And what was wrong with Fox? Didn't he know he was wasting his time on her? Theresa wasn't easy, and she wasn't about to fall for his charms. Besides, her heart belonged to someone else, didn't it?

Ethan had never really considered the possibility that she might have moved on. For as long as he could remember, he'd been the object of her adoration, and he'd held a special place in his heart for her, as well.

"What do you think I'm going to do, Ethan?" Fox asked, his voice changing from the concerned and sincere voice he'd shown Theresa moments earlier to one of arrogance.

"It's not what I think. It's what I know. You're going to hurt Theresa, and I'm not going to let that happen."

"What? The way you hurt her? Right. You aren't exactly one to be talking, but then again, that's never stopped you before."

"Stop it," Theresa replied quietly. "Ethan, Fox is…Fox is special to me. He's not doing anything to hurt me. In fact, he's only trying to help."

Gwen smirked. "Is that what it's called these days, Theresa?"

Fox glared at his sister-in-law. Marriage hadn't dulled her sharp tongue, but two could play at that game. "Why Gwen, I heard about the unexpected visitor on your honeymoon."

Theresa turned to Fox, her brow furrowed. "Unexpected visitor?"

"Her period."

For the second time that night, Theresa was stunned. The baby, which brought Ethan back to Gwen though he had planned to break it off with her, never existed! Those times when Gwen taunted her that she would have the one thing Theresa never would have, the times she patted her stomach and commented that she was eating for two—were those just for show? Was Gwen capable of manipulating the two of them so much that she lied her way to the altar?

Theresa looked to Ethan, searching his face for the truth. He seemed uncomfortable at best, defeated at worst.

Gwen, on the other hand, was horrified.

"I can't believe you, Nicholas. I can't believe you!"

"What amazes _me_ is that Ethan believed _you_." Fox turned to his brother. "Come on, Eth. It's the oldest trick in the book."

Ethan pointed his finger at his half-brother. "Knock it off, Fox."

Theresa stepped between the brothers. "I want _both_ of you to knock it off. I can't take the two of your arguing. Not now."

Fox voice softened as he rested his hand on the small of her back. "Resa, are you going to tell me what had you so upset in there?"

Theresa warmed at his touch. She wanted to believe that telling him would make it all go away, but it wouldn't. She turned to face him. "I…I can't. Not yet. I need to talk to Ethan."

Anger and hurt flashed in Fox's brown eyes before he lifted his carefully cultivated mask of dissimulation and stepped away from her. He felt like an idiot. A few minutes earlier when she asked him to hold her, he thought she would finally open up, finally trust him.

But no.

She was still hung up on Ethan.

It would always be his half-brother.

"Nothing's changed."

"Things aren't always what they seem, Fox."

Gwen touched Ethan's arm. "We were already late to the party, Sweetie. I don't want to miss any more." She fixed her gaze on Theresa. "And I don't want you cleaning up Theresa's messes."

Fox shook his head. "You know what, Gwen? I think we _should_ let Ethan try to clean up Theresa's mess. She doesn't need me to do it for her, and it should be pretty obvious to you by now that Ethan likes playing hero." Fox leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "You've got a chance, T. You can get him back now."

Theresa looked to Fox and took his hand. She gently pulled him aside and spoke in a hushed tone. "Don't be angry with me. That's not what this is about. It's about burying the past."

"Burying the past, Resa? Looks to me like you're trying to resurrect it."

"Fox, something happened tonight. Something that I need to tell Ethan."

"Right. So you can tell Ethan, but you can't tell me? Is that how it works?"

"That isn't fair."

"Look, Resa, we said no attachments. I guess it's pretty clear to you that I've broken our rule."

"So have I. You have to know that I…"

Fox interrupted. "But I'm not much for rules. I am, however, one for self-preservation. I will never be your Ethan substitute, and now that Ethan is back, you don't need me for one anyway."

She rested her hand against his chest. "It's not like that at all. Will you wait for me, Fox? Please? Just a few minutes. Then I will explain."

Fox took her hand, pulled it from his chest, and squeezed it before letting go. "There's a very beautiful woman waiting inside who wants my undivided attention tonight, Step-mommy. There's no reason for me to wait for you."

Theresa's heart caught within her chest. "You don't understand."

"No, I understand perfectly," Fox replied as he walked away from her. "She's all yours, Eth. I hope you enjoy her as much as I have."

Theresa helplessly watched him rejoin the party. A tightness, a pain, clutched at her.

"What did my brother mean by that?" Ethan asked, but Theresa was too shocked to respond.

His wife's words distracted him. "Ethan, you're not seriously going to talk to Theresa, are you?" Gwen's voice was harsh and cold as she put her hands on his shoulders.

Ethan shrugged from her touch. "I think I should. Can't you see how upset she is?"

"If she were beaming from ear to ear, you'd still want to talk with her," Gwen huffed. "I hope you realize you're making a mistake. She's setting the same snare she did before we were married."

"My eyes are wide open, Gwen. I know very well what Theresa is capable of."

Something in Theresa snapped as she listened to the two of them discuss her like she wasn't present. "You have the nerve to talk about snares, Gwen? It would almost be funny if you weren't so hypocritical. And you, Ethan, you're the biggest fraud of them all."

"Theresa…" Ethan began.

She held up her hand. "Forget it. I thought I had something to say to you, but I don't. The two of you deserve each other."

Angrily she pushed the outside doors open, went through, and didn't look back.

Bruce's words rang in her ears.

_"Never slept together, unless you did it in Harmony.__ Damn. Julian Crane owes me some money now."_

Theresa looked up at the night sky. A million stars shone on her that night; a million wishes were waiting to be made. They went unspoken.

She began walking. She wasn't sure where she was going, or even if it mattered. Everything changed in a matter of moments. The world tilted, and she stumbled.

Her hands went to her abdomen. She remembered how upset, how frightened, she'd been to discover she was carrying Julian's child.

But the baby wasn't Julian's. Ethan was the father. Ethan, who couldn't see past her imperfections to acknowledge his own. Ethan who couldn't love her enough to put foolish pride aside. Ethan who prized honesty above all else but knew little about actually being honest. Ethan who had been her first love. Ethan who had been her first lover. Ethan who had been the be all and end all in her life at one point. Ethan who pointed the finger of recrimination at her still.

She felt empty. One child could not replace another, but she wanted to be a mother. She still wanted those childhood dreams of Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald.

_"And by all rights, you shouldn't be Mrs. Crane."_

She knew she shouldn't possess the things Theresa Crane did, but would she be able to give them up? The material possessions, yes. Her love for Fox….

She choked back tears. He wouldn't even let her tell him what she'd been trying to say for so long.

Three simple words.

_I love you_.

Three powerful words.

_I love you_.

The words used to come so easily to her. She'd worn her heart on her sleeve for most of her life. Hiding anything was difficult because she was so expressive, so demonstrative. Yet she'd become an expert at hiding, out of necessity, out of fear.

Hesitancy replaced boldness, and her words to Fox went unspoken.

His words, however, did not.

_We end now._

But he did have feelings for her. He as much as admitted it! Why wouldn't he give her a chance, give them, a chance?

She felt pulled in so many directions, yet there was nowhere to go.

Silently and numbly, she walked and soon found herself close to the waterfront. The vendors and small businesses seemed slow that night.

No, not slow. Just less frenzied than her fast-paced life, a life that didn't belong to her.

But what did belong to her?

Everything reminded her of something.

The paddleboats sat unoccupied. When she was a child, she and Whitney used to love to go out in them.

The Book Café had its usual customers, Theresa noted as she looked through the outer window. Couples, friends, families. So many smiles, so much laughter. So many memories.

Long ago, Theresa had watched Ethan dance with Gwen while he stared at her. Come and get me, he seemed to say, and she tried.

At other times, she sat with Ethan on the overstuffed sofa, drinking coffee, and helping him look for a job. He had been so frustrated with his lack of success on that front after the tabloid revealed his true paternity.

And then there was the ice cream vendor. He was an older gentleman, pleasantly plump, with a large red nose.

"You okay, miss?"

The older man's words of concern snapped Theresa out of her thoughts. "I'm…I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," he replied bluntly. "Say, I know you, don't I?"

"I don't think so."

"Yeah, I do. I never forget a face or an ice cream flavor. Drives my wife nuts. You were here a few weeks ago with that young man. Tall fellow he was. Blond hair. Chocolate chip mint cone."

_"I can't believe you talked me into this. It's freezing outside!"_

_"I thought you liked new experiences," he teased as he rubbed her arms._

_"I do. But eating ice cream in February?" she grinned. "You're going to be the death of me, Fox."_

_"Don't worry, Resa. I'll keep you warm."_

_She groaned at his cheesy line. "I can't believe you just said that."_

_He grinned back at her. "It was a bit trite, wasn't it? I'm losing my touch, getting complacent. You're going to have to keep me on my toes."_

_"Mmmm. And what toes they are," she giggled as she squeezed his hand._

_"What can I get for you folks tonight?" the ice cream vendor asked._

_Fox didn't even hesitate. "I'll have a chocolate chip mint cone. What about you, Gorgeous?"_

_Theresa, on the other hand, pondered her decision. "I'm not feeling very adventurous, so I'll stay with a tried-and-true strawberry cone."_

_The man scooped two waffle cones while Fox removed crisp bills from his wallet. "Keep the change," Fox offered._

_"Thanks," the man said as he handed over the ice cream. "It's been a slow night."_

_"My pleasure," Fox replied. He placed a hand on Theresa's shoulder, and the two walked to a nearby bench that overlooked the water._

_They settled onto it, Fox with his arm around Theresa. She snuggled closer to him and sighed. "It feels great to get out of the house."_

_He licked his ice cream and let its sweetness wash over him. "I wish I could get you to leave permanently. I don't like what being there does to you. It kills me to see the way they talk to you."_

_She rested a gloved hand on his thigh. "I can't, Fox. Not yet."_

_"Why?"_

_"I have my reasons," she replied as she tasted her cone._

_"Which you still haven't explained," he pointed out. "You're being coy."_

_"Yes, I am," she agreed. "But I don't want to put you in an uncomfortable situation with your family. It's best that you not know."_

_"Well," he began as he squeezed her shoulder, "in case you hadn't noticed, I'm already in an uncomfortable situation with my family. We've never seen eye-to-eye. I doubt we ever will."_

_"Especially if this thing between us ever gets out." Theresa looked around her. "We really need to be careful, not just at the mansion but here, as well."_

_"There's no one else around, except for the ice cream guy, Resa. He's not going to say anything." Fox leaned closer, his forehead touching hers. "Want to know what's going to happen tonight?"_

_"Mmmhmmm," she murmured._

_"Well, I'm going to kiss you properly for starters."_

_"Oh?"_

_"Absolutely. And then we're going to Lookout Point. You'll coax me into the backseat."_

_"Oh, I will, will I?"_

_"Yeah, you will because you can't get enough of me."_

_Theresa gasped. "I can't get enough of you? Try the other way around, Mister!"_

_"You are my addiction, and I am yours."_

_His mouth descended on hers. She parted her lips, allowing him the access he so desperately wanted._

_"Mmmmm. You taste so good," she murmured._

_Like chocolate chip mint._

Theresa nodded. "Yes, that was us."

"Where is he tonight? Thought he'd be here with you. As I recall, he couldn't take his eyes off you."

"Things change."

"Well, could I get you something, Miss?" the man asked.

It was then that Theresa became acutely aware that she'd left the party without her purse. "I don't have any money on me."

"Eh, my treat. What will it be?"

Theresa took a deep breath. She saw her old fall-back, strawberry, and it was tempting her, but then there was the flavor Fox favored. "I would love a chocolate chip mint ice cream cone."

"One chocolate chip mint cone coming up," the man replied.

"Thank you."

The older man handed the cone to Theresa. "Listen, Miss, I'm sure you don't want my advice, but I've never been one to hold my tongue. It just seems to me that you really care for this guy. My wife and I wasted a lot of time when we were younger. Missed out on being together because of pride and misunderstandings. I don't want to see that happen to you."

What was there to say? Theresa merely nodded.

She began to walk along the waterfront again, losing herself in a tumult of memories. Yet as she licked the ice cream and tasted its mint sweetness, one thought emerged before all others.

_It tastes like Fox._


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

The room was dark, the house quiet.

Fox was alone. Always alone.

It shouldn't have come as any surprise to him. Sometimes he made the choice to be alone. Sometimes the choice was made for him.

His eyes grazed over the mantle of the fireplace. He knew that many other families used a mantle as a showplace for family portraits of happy, smiling, loving people. The fireplace in the Crane Mansion served as more of an Ethan shrine. Strange, considering Ethan wasn't even a Crane anymore. Chalk that up to dear old mother. She was nothing if not consistent. And, of course, Theresa didn't protest having Ethan's pictures around, either.

Law school graduation photos, wedding portraits, boating competitions…Ethan's life looked perfect. False smiles, false feelings, false identities. So damn perfect. So damn fake.

Fox felt like he was drowning in fakeness. It only reinforced that feeling of never quite belonging. It was that feeling which kept him from Harmony for so long and still kept his sisters away.

_"Oh, Fox. Why can't you be more like your brother?"_

Why indeed?

He'd been hearing those words all his life. His mother's impatient admonitions, his father's tongue-in-cheek comments, and now Theresa. While true she didn't come out and say it, it was obvious earlier that night when she wanted to speak with Ethan that's what she meant.

_How ironic_.

He'd never really _wanted_ to be like Ethan. All his half-brother did was what was expected of him. Heaven forbid he actually have an original thought.

No, it certainly wasn't in Fox's plan to be like Ethan. Always doing what others wanted, being pushed and pulled by their demands, others' expectations.

But as the harsh reality that his brother was the man Theresa still loved became more apparent, Fox's resolve to never be anything like Ethan melted. Hell, he would've traded places with his sanctimonious brother in a heartbeat if it would make Theresa love him.

But wanting something one couldn't have was foolish.

His father always warned him against romantic entanglements. Women were put on Earth to please a man sexually and breed heirs. Nothing else. They provided a service.

With the sticky emotion of love came need, and Fox, above all else, didn't want to need.

Theresa changed all of that. With just a smile, just a touch, a glance, he was her captive. He more than wanted her; he needed her.

It had been a strange transition, really. This woman—his father's young wife—was considered a conniving gold-digger by many. In truth, he expected as much when he returned home for Ethan's wedding. Beautiful on the outside, cold and heartless on the inside. That's what they all said. His father even called her a barracuda.

Fox had been curious to discover for himself just what it was that made Theresa Crane tick. Months later, he still didn't know, but the one thing he did know was that she was nothing like what everyone had said.

Her heart had a huge capacity for love. Her smile was genuine; it met her eyes and made his heart pound. She'd shown more consideration for him than members of his own family when he'd given her no reason in the world to show even the smallest kindnesses.

He loved her zest for life, her sharp wit, how she adored her family and friends, and how she fit so perfectly in his arms.

And he set her free that day.

_We end now_.

But they hadn't really ended, had they?

At the party, their eyes met. They danced around each other but not with each other. He felt himself drawn to her, needing to be near her.

He never saw himself as much of a hero, but he tried to rescue her from whatever demons haunted her, the demons that Bruce unleashed. What _had_ that been about?

All in all, it had been so strange a night.

_"My name is Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald."_

Why did she call herself that? And why did she cry?

Fox tried to shake it off. It wasn't his problem anymore. It was Ethan's. Perfect, boring, holier-than-thou Ethan.

He sighed. How had the situation become so personal? Hadn't they said they'd keep it purely physical? No emotional attachments.

Slowly, but surely, that had changed for him. Resa was more than a bed partner; she was the one person he looked forward to talking to each day, the one person with whom he felt he could share aspects of himself that no one else saw.

It killed him to see her so devastated. Sure, he'd seen her upset before. He'd even been guilty of making her upset on an occasion or two, but the haunted look in her eyes was vastly different from anything he'd seen in her before. She'd seen a ghost, relived a horrific experience, and she wouldn't let him near enough to take that away.

But she'd been willing to let Ethan near.

God, he felt like a fool, a fool for thinking that she would actually open up to him, a fool for thinking that she would prefer him to his 'perfect' brother.

Once upon a time, he would've pushed those feelings aside by pushing himself into another woman. The opportunity certainly presented itself that night with Mary Elizabeth Brewington if only he'd paid more attention to her, but he couldn't stomach the thought of being with another woman. No matter how beautiful she was, she just wasn't Theresa.

And so he still found himself in solitude.

"Oh, Mr. Crane…I can't wait to see your _magic_ tricks."

Correction.

Almost in solitude.

The muffled giggles of the woman came from the foyer.

Julian chuckled. "Well, Margarite, from my hat, I can certainly pull a rabbit. And from my pants…" he opened the door the living room, "I can pull…oh good heavens, my boy, I didn't realize you were in here."

Fox's brown eyes fixed upon his father and one of the upstairs chamber maids. Julian Crane gave him the tried and true boys-will-be-boys look, while Margarite turned a noticeable shade of pink.

"Should that come as any great surprise, Pops?"

Julian turned to his companion. "Wait for me upstairs. The magician must take care of intermission first."

Margarite nodded, her red hair falling about her face, before she quickly headed out of the room.

Julian cleared his throat as he studied his son. "I thought you'd be otherwise occupied tonight, my boy, if you know what I mean."

Fox said nothing, merely turned away.

"Don't tell me Mary Elizabeth didn't offer!" The shock was evident in his voice.

Fox lifted a brow. "Oh, she offered. I just didn't accept."

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Mary Elizabeth wasn't my type."

The father eyed his son suspiciously. "I didn't realize you had a type."

"Well, I do, and she wasn't it."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Same as always."

"Very well, then. I shall take my leave of you. Opportunity's door is knocking, and the banging must be heeded." Julian chuckled at his own dirty joke, and didn't seem to notice his son's lack of enthusiasm for it.

"Wait, Pops. Before you go, I have one question for you."

"What's that?"

"Why Margarite?"

Julian did a double-take. Was Fox experiencing vision problems? Or was it something more serious like a nagging attack of morality? No, it had to be the first. After all, he and Fox were two of a kind. "Excuse me?"

"You're married to a beautiful, intelligent woman."

Julian grimaced. "Who won't let me anywhere near her."

"But you're going to let Ethan have his crack at her? Why?"

"You're joking, right?"

"No. I honestly want to know. The two of you created a child together, after all. There must've been _something_ there."

"The truth of the matter is that I don't even remember our wedding night. I was so far gone thanks to my seductress-wife. She kept plying me with alcohol."

Fox's brows furrowed. "That's what I don't understand. I've always known you to be a man who can hold his liquor."

"Yes," Julian conceded, "it is puzzling, isn't it? Well, I can't say she's much of a seductress as she's not tried to seduce me since then, but she's certainly mercenary. All I know is why should I care who has a crack at her? If it would get Theresa off my back, I'd hand her over to Ethan in a heartbeat."

"So it wouldn't bother you at all if she were to have an affair with Ethan…or someone else?"

"Someone else?" Julian laughed. "I can't see Theresa wanting anyone but Ethan. For as long as I've known her, it's always been about Ethan with her. Of course, if she did carry on an affair, I would have finally have grounds for a divorce, and Theresa wouldn't see a penny. I like Ethan very much. Mind you, I thought he was my first-born son for most of his life, but I don't plan on letting Theresa support him with the Crane money if she and I divorce."

"You really think it will come to that? Ethan's married, after all."

"What Theresa wants, she gets. I learned that the hard way. Besides, we both know that there's trouble in paradise. Ethan, despite all his protestations of honesty, is a man like any other man. There's nothing to tie him to Gwen; he's free to pursue pleasure with Theresa guilt-free. Speaking of guilt-free pleasures, I have a succulent dish waiting for me upstairs."

"Oh, of course."

Fox watched his father leave the room with a skip in his step.

Julian Crane would offer no resistance to Theresa and Ethan. Gwen might, but her trump card no longer existed. No, it was all but a done deal.

Within a few minutes, Fox found himself walking up the stairs. He would spend the night alone in his room, the first time in nearly three months. Yet as he walked past Theresa's bedroom door, he stopped. Out of habit, out of hope—he wasn't sure why he did it—but he stopped, nonetheless.

Slowly the pushed the door open and was greeted with darkness. His hand found the light switch on the wall, and the darkness was chased away.

He walked inside, closed the door behind him.

The room had always seemed so inviting to him, but now he felt like an intruding stranger. He had no business being there, he knew, but he wanted to be around her things and around memories of them.

_Her dark eyes sparkled as she smiled. "Do you like it?"_

_Fox surveyed his lover as she modeled the pale blue nightgown that ran the length of her slender body. "I do. __Very much."_

_"But…?"_

_He smiled as his fingers trailed the span of her arms. "I think I'd like to see how it would look draped on furniture instead of draped on you.__"_

On a chair, he found her nightgown still there from the night before when he'd pulled it from her body and tossed it aside. He fingered the smooth, sheer material before he lifted it from the chair. It smelled of her sweetness.

Fox sat on the edge of the bed.

It was truly over. He wouldn't be with her this night or any other night.

He'd been so lost in his own thoughts, he'd not heard the door open.

"I saw your light was on, Theresita, so I knew you must be back," came the slightly accented English.

Fox looked up to see Pilar coming through the door with a tray of warm milk and cookies.

"Dios Mio! Nicholas! What are you doing in here?"

He stood and shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "I was doing exactly what it looks like. I was trespassing."

Pilar set the tray on Theresa's dresser. Her features set into hard lines as she turned to face the young man, her daughter's lover.

Fox had known Pilar long enough to recognize the look of disapproval; he'd certainly been privy to it on enough occasions. "I'll just be going."

Pilar stepped in front of the door, blocking his exit. "Not so fast! You and I need to have a talk about my daughter."


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

The night breeze filled the air with a chill, one that was especially noticeable as Theresa stood on the wharf and looked out at the water. From the time she was a child, it was one of her favorite places in the entire world. Perhaps it was the nostalgia she felt as she remembered stories her mother used to tell her, or the vague memory of being held in her father's strong arms so she could see over the railing. She couldn't be sure why it held her in its pull, but it did.

Often times, it was a place where she found peace. She would have no peace, though, for she recognized the footsteps she heard.

"Go away, Ethan." Her voice was distant, tired.

Ethan hesitated as he looked at her tiny frame. So long ago he'd found her at that very spot, upset and crying. He'd eased her pain with a kiss. If only it were so easy now.

"How did you know it was me?"

"I remember how you walk."

Ethan didn't heed her request. Instead, he stood next to her and looked at the same water. "You always did know everything about me."

"Everything except the real you."

Her words stunned him. Where was the Theresa he left behind? "I, um….I brought your purse. You took off so fast, and I saw you didn't have it with you, so I coaxed it from the coat check clerk." He handed the small bag to her.

"Thank you," she acknowledged.

Ethan nervously forced his hands into his pockets. "Being here with you brings back a lot of memories."

"I'd rather forget."

"Would you?"

Theresa turned to face him. Strange. He looked as she remembered him. Same sandy colored hair. Same blue eyes. But she felt as though she was talking to stranger. "Yes. It's not pleasant when one is faced with the fact that she's been a complete and utter fool. Seeing you brings all of that back."

"I never meant to make you feel foolish."

"Right. You meant to make me feel lower than the dirt on your feet instead. Big difference there."

"Theresa, about what happened at the party, I…" his voice trailed off. "I owe you a huge apology. I know it isn't enough, and I know I should have stood up for you."

_Why couldn't you believe in me when I believed in you over and over? Why couldn't you love me __the way I loved you?_

"But why stand up for me, Ethan? The one and only time you ever did was when you went against your family's wishes and asked me to marry you. Since then, I've been fighting against your disdain."

"I'm not perfect." The words echoed in Ethan's ears.

Theresa touched the rough wooden railing. "I know. Funny how I didn't realize that for the longest time, but I become more acutely aware of that with each passing day."

Ethan swallowed hard. He knew facing Theresa would be difficult, but he'd not been prepared for the onslaught of bitterness she showered on him.

It hurt.

So many of the emotions he'd try to push down, for the sake of his marriage, for the sake of his own sanity, were in danger of spilling. "We've disappointed each other."

"Yes, we have."

He wanted to reach out to her, to make contact. But if he did, would he be able to let her go? "I thought that staying away would make it easier between us."

"I don't think it will ever be easy between us again. We've lost too much."

He sighed. "I still have a hard time with that."

"Do you?"

Ethan large hands clasped around Theresa's slender arms, and he turned her around to face him. "Of course I do! Don't you think I wonder about what might have been? Don't you think it haunts me every night, echoing in my mind? Do you think I'm really so unfeeling, Theresa?"

She pushed away from him. "Yes, I do!" she cried out. "I used to see this amazing love reflected in your eyes, Ethan. I felt like the luckiest girl in the whole world. I uttered so many prayers of thanksgiving that this wonderful, amazing, perfect man chose me. _Me_!"

A tear slid down her cheek. Ethan reached out to wipe it away, but Theresa back-stepped.

"How could I not love you? You breathed a new life into my existence. You took the ordinary and made it extraordinary."

"Did you love me, Ethan? I mean, did you really love me, or was it the idea of me? The idea of innocence, the girl untouched. Well I am no longer that girl."

He turned away and rubbed his forehead. "I had hoped our first conversation wouldn't be like this."

Theresa closed her eyes, Bruce's words echoing in her mind. It was Ethan's baby she had carried. Ethan, whom she had once loved more than her own life. Ethan who once had the power to destroy her. Ethan who turned his back on her, pushed her away, then pulled her to him.

"Me too. I had so much I wanted to tell you, but it doesn't seem right to tell you now. None of this seems right."

Ethan turned back around. "Then let's try small steps. Let's make it right."

"I don't know how."

"Neither do I," he admitted. "I can't change the man I am any more than you can change the woman you've become."

Theresa laughed harshly. "The woman I've become. Oh, that's rich. Who is Theresa Crane but a fraud? How fitting that I'm sharing a conversation with a man who is equally fraudulent!"

Ethan's brow furrowed. "You said that before. Why?"

"Theresa Crane should never have existed," she replied blithely. "You know, it's very strange seeing you again, especially knowing what I know now."

"That Gwen isn't pregnant?"

"Among other things."

He looked at the floor of the wooden deck. "It came as a shock to me, too."

"But you're still with her. You know, I talked myself into believing that you asked her to marry you only because of the baby, but I was wrong. You asked her to marry you because she was the easier choice. You do have a great capacity to love; you just don't love me."

"Every night when I close my eyes, it's you I see. I find myself seeing something, hearing something, and then I think, 'What would Theresa say about that?' I've spent so much time wishing things were different."

"They are what they are."

"Gwen is a good woman."

Theresa crossed her arms. Memories of baseball bats, words that were intended to hurt, and looks that could kill filled her mind. "Is she?"

"Yes. It was an honest mistake."

"Conveniently made when she knew you were about to propose to me."

Ethan watched Theresa roll her eyes, and he felt foolish. Could Theresa have been right? No. It wasn't possible. Gwen was honest with him. She _had_ to be. Otherwise, he'd give up everything he wanted for nothing.

"She did think she was pregnant, Theresa. I don't blame her for not wanting to be alone."

"I don't, either. It's truly a miserable feeling to be alone during a pregnancy."

Ethan face grew hot. Theresa's pointed words were a painful reminder of circumstances he'd rather leave buried.

But those feelings wouldn't be buried. She blamed him. Unbelievable. She blamed _him_ for _her_ mistakes. "The wounds were too fresh."

"Only because you kept tearing at us."

"I didn't know what to do."

Theresa stared at the man before her. His words reminded her of the words of a child.

He really _hadn't_ known what to do.

Why hadn't she seen it before? All his life, he had others choose a path for him. Of course he didn't know what to do; he'd always allowed others to think for him.

This wasn't what she needed. _Ethan_ wasn't what she needed.

"Obviously I didn't, either. But now….now I know what I have to do….and that's walk away from you, Ethan. You were always preaching about honesty to me. I found out a few truths tonight, but I don't think you deserve to know."

With those cryptic words, she began to walk away from him.

He stood, momentarily stunned before setting off in pursuit.

"Theresa, wait!"

She continued walking. "Leave me alone, Ethan."

With his longer legs, he easily caught up to her. His hands reached for her arms. "I'm sorry, Theresa! I'm sorry I said the things I did! I'm sorry I couldn't be the man you wanted me to be!"

"And I'm sorry I couldn't be perfect!"

Ethan was exasperated. "I didn't want perfection, Theresa! I wanted honesty."

"Guess you got more than you bargained for because you didn't want me to be honest with you, Ethan. You still don't. You know, I would see it in your eyes soon after we got back from Bermuda. I was tarnished. Damaged. I couldn't be honest because I wasn't perfect. I couldn't be perfect because I wasn't honest."

_Ber__muda again. __Always Bermuda._

"What happened tonight with you and Bruce? What does it have to do with Fox?"

"You couldn't handle what I know and what I've done."

_Fox is…Fox is special to me, Ethan._

_She's all yours, Eth. I hope you enjoy her as much as I have._

Like the most oppressive of forces, pieces of a puzzle began to form an image of clarity.

"You and my brother…you're together, aren't you?"

* * *

Fox shifted his weight as he stared at Pilar. "You want to talk about Theresa? Why?"

Pilar closed the door to Theresa's room behind her. "I know why you're here, and you need to know that I don't approve."

Fox crossed his arms. "Whatever you're thinking, you're wrong. I already told you what I was doing here. I'm trespassing."

"Yes, yes, so you said. And while you aren't entirely wrong about the fact you're someplace you shouldn't be, there's more to the story."

"Theresa and I are nothing to each other. I was just curious about this room, that's all. It was mine when I was a child."

"But you've spent quite a bit of time here recently."

_She knows._

"I have," Fox admitted. "Though I don't suppose I'll be spending much time here in the future."

Anger flared in Pilar's dark eyes. "How could you, Nicholas? When everything you touch gets destroyed, how could you touch my daughter?"

"You already have your answer, don't you, Pilar?"

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Obviously, I just live to destroy. I mean, why try to do the right thing and have everyone say it isn't good enough when I can do the wrong thing and have more fun in the process?"

Pilar shook her head in disbelief. "So it's acceptable to you to play with my daughter's heart? To toy with her? Because let me tell you, I will not stand for it! She has been through enough."

"You really don't give Theresa enough credit."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Who knows, Pilar? Maybe it was Theresa playing with _my_ heart."

Pilar's eyes narrowed. "Says you who've never cared for anyone but yourself! You're consumed by your own selfish wants. Always have been."

"How would you know, Pilar? Have you ever bothered to get to know who I really am? Of course not."

"I know who you are, Nicholas Crane. As a baby, you were never content. Given a toy, you would toss it aside. As a little boy, you sought trouble at every opportunity. I remember an instance when you stole my daughter's doll. It was Ethan who retrieved it and gave it to Theresa. As an adolescent, you tormented your teachers and managed to get thrown out of no less than eight boarding schools. Let's not forget your penchant for gambling, which you've not outgrown. And as a man, you forced your way into my daughter's bed, and she's one in a series of who knows how many women you've bedded. Yes, I know who you are, Nicholas Crane. I know exactly who you are."

Fox said nothing. He merely stared.

"I assume you feel you aren't answerable, either." Pilar shook her head in disgust. "You're just like your father."

"You want me to answer, but what is there left for me to say? You already know everything there is to know. I'm a user. Always have been. "

"It's best for you to leave Theresa alone. She might think she loves you, but you've shown time and time again that you aren't capable of…"

_She might think she loves you…_

_…she loves you…._

A broad grin spread across Fox's features. He spoke excitedly, "Wait a second, Pilar. Back up. Theresa loves me?"


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

Pilar hesitated. "You misunderstood what I said."

"No, I heard you. You said that Theresa loves me."

"I said she _thinks_ she loves you. Most likely she's confusing lust for love. Despite what Julian would have everyone think, Theresa's very innocent when it comes to men." Pilar sighed as she wrung her hands nervously, "Or at least she was before you came along."

"But she told you this? That she loves me?"

"I will not betray my daughter's confidence, Nicholas. I have already said too much."

Unconsciously, Fox lightly chewed his bottom lip. This was…this was _unbelievable_. For as uncomfortable as he felt that moment in Pilar's presence, she'd given him the most incredible of news amidst her scolding rants.

Theresa loved him.

Theresa loved _him_!

He exhaled loudly, the realization of his foolishness starting to set in. She had tried to tell him at the party, and he wouldn't listen. Where was she now? Was she okay? He certainly hadn't put his best foot forward, after all. It was more along the lines of open mouth, insert foot.

Pilar studied the young man before her. Just as quickly as the grin had come to his face moments ago, it was gone, replaced by a mask. His face betrayed little of what he thought, but the look in his expressive, dark eyes worried her. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"All my life, Pilar, my father told me that as a Crane, I was entitled to anything I wanted. The world was my oyster."

"Yes," Pilar replied, "I promptly remember how you carried out that philosophy, always wanting more and more extravagant things."

"Things," Fox mused as he looked around the room. "Things don't guarantee happiness, do they?"

"No, they do not. A person's worth is based on who he or she is on the inside."

"Which puts me at a deficit, right?"

"I wasn't going to say that," Pilar replied quickly.

"But you were thinking it." Fox shrugged. "It doesn't matter, though, because almost everything you said about me was true up to a point. If I wanted something, I set out to get it. Then I got it, and inevitably I didn't want it anymore."

"And you wanted my daughter."

"Yes. From the moment I saw her the first night I came home. She is so beautiful, full of life, and most importantly, off-limits. Made me want her more, and eventually I got her."

"You make me sick!"

Fox held up his hand. "Let me finish because the story really does get more interesting."

"Your perverse views are hardly of interest to me, Nicholas. Leave Theresa alone."

Fox's voice softened. "I can't because somewhere along the way, I stopped just wanting Theresa. I started to _need_ her. When I'm not with her, I think about her. When I _am_ with her, the world looks different. Everything is intensified. Colors seem more vivid, flavors are richer. There's this…this…electrical charge. I never knew I was missing anything in my life until I met her."

Pilar swallowed hard though the lump that formed in her throat would not go away. "Are you saying you love my daughter?"

"Love," Fox repeated numbly. "You know, I always scoffed at the notion of love, how it makes people weak. I never wanted to be in love, never thought I would know what it felt like, but I was wrong. I was so wrong." He smiled. "It's the most _incredible_ feeling! I don't feel weak; I feel strong, like I could do anything when I'm with her. I love Resa. I love her!"

The force of Fox's words stunned Pilar. "I never thought I would see this day."

"Neither did I," he confessed.

"Hearing you speak, I can almost believe that you're sincere."

"I _am_ sincere."

"Whether you are or aren't matters little. Do you think that your family will just sit idly by and allow your relationship with my daughter to continue? This affair of yours _will_ get out. How do you think Julian will take the news? Or Ivy? She _hates_ Theresa with a passion. And Alistair—while he may have hired my daughter to work at Crane Industries, he will not tolerate the scandal that your relationship with her will bring about. And then Ethan…"

Fox interrupted, "I've already spoken with my father."

Fear seized Pilar. "You mean you've told him about you and Theresa?"

"No, not exactly. I did ask him how he would feel if Theresa were to have an affair. He wasn't completely opposed to the notion. I suppose he was hopeful that her lover would get Theresa out of the family."

"He assumed you meant an affair with Ethan."

"Yes."

"Well, you are in a unique situation now, Nicholas. You are the Crane heir, and with that position come a multitude of new responsibilities. You will be expected to adopt a demeanor of respectability."

"I can fake respectability."

"Not if word gets out that you're carrying on an affair with your…your _step-mother_. Oh, God helps us."

Fox frowned. "She's my step-mommy in name only."

"She bore your father a child."

Fox fought hard not to cringe. The idea of his father with the woman he loved—it was like being physically punched in the stomach. He hated the fact that Theresa was married to Julian, hated that the ghosts of Bermuda still haunted her.

"That doesn't mean they have a real marriage." Indeed, everyone in their social set knew that Julian and Theresa's marriage was about as loving as his parents' marriage had been. "You know, I'm perplexed that they married in the first place. I've never known my father to be a man who couldn't handle his liquor. He told me that he doesn't even remember his wedding night."

"Perhaps that is for the best. Theresa remembers nothing of it, either, but she had to live with the consequences of her actions." Pilar paused. "Actually, she still does. While that must be a new concept for you, I beg you, for her sake and yours, let her go."

Fox crossed his arms. "I'm not walking away."

"You must!" Pilar insisted. "If you love her the way you claim, you will do what's right!"

"I _am_ doing what is right. All her life, people have left her, Pilar. Her father disappeared, Ethan turned his back on her when she needed him the most, and her baby, the most precious little person in the world to her, died! How can you tell me that walking away is the right thing to do?"

"Because you are the _wrong_ man for her! If you insist on pursuing a relationship with my daughter, she will be destroyed. Is that what you want for her?"

"I will protect her. I won't let anyone hurt her!"

"Of all the delusions of grandeur! What do you think _you_ can do to protect her? You can't even take care of yourself. You spend money, with no thought of the hands that earned it. You speak without giving any consideration to the impact your words have. And who is going to protect her from _you_? Theresa needs stability in her life, a man who is good and decent, and she needs to get away from this horrible family!"

Pilar's words hung in the air. The line was drawn.

"I know I'm not what you want for your daughter, Pilar, and on some level, I even understand that. But with all due respect, it's not your decision. It's my decision and Theresa's. I came here tonight, and I felt like hell. I mean it. I felt like I had lost everything. But with just a few words…"

"Careless words."

"…you helped me to see what I should have known all along. I'm in love with your daughter, and this woman—_this amazing woman_—feels the same about me."

"You will damn her with your so-called love."

With that, Pilar hurried from the room.

Fox sank onto the soft bed. Theresa loved him. Resa loved _him_!

"Oh God, I've been such a jerk tonight," he groaned.

Foolish pride, his downfall.

He'd always believed himself to be a man of instincts. So why hadn't he followed them?

Theresa had tried to tell him that she didn't want Ethan, that he was not serving as a substitute for Ethan. So why couldn't he see she was sincere? Since when had he become so…so…_insecure_?

And then there was Mary Elizabeth. Fox knew he certainly hadn't helped his cause any by throwing another woman in Theresa's face. Even if he hadn't been able to get Theresa off his mind the whole time he was around Mary Elizabeth, would Theresa believe that? Would she understand why he did what he did?

"Pilar was right. If I'm going to protect her, I should start by protecting her from myself," he muttered.

He closed his eyes, and he could still see the look of hurt on Resa's face. With any luck, though, he'd be able to take that pain away.

After all, anything worth having was worth fighting for. And he was going to fight for Theresa.

* * *

Theresa crossed her arms defiantly. Her voice gained a sharpness that Ethan had never heard directed toward him before. "So you want to know about Fox and me?"

_No backing down now._

"Yes, I do."

"It's none of your business. You gave up any right to know about my life a long time ago, Ethan."

"I suppose I deserve that. We aren't friends like we used to be. We aren't even pleasant to each other. It was a stupid question anyway. The thought of you and my brother…"

Theresa's eyes narrowed into cat-like slits. "What's so _stupid_ about it?"

Ethan touched the wood railing, his open palm closing around its roughness. "Let's just say that my brother is everything I would never want to be. He changes women like other people change socks. He has no goals for himself and only pursues what feels good. I don't even think he's capable of love. I know he's never shown it to anyone in our family." Ethan released his hold on the railing and turned his attention to Theresa. He reached for a tiny hand and held it against his chest. "And then I know you, Theresa. You're a passionate woman, driven, faithful, and you believe in love. _That's_ why I find the thought of you and Nicholas so laughable."

Theresa pulled her hand away. "You don't know him, Ethan."

Ethan felt the blood rush in his ears. "What did you say?"

"I said you don't know him. Let me educate you. Your brother is an amazing man."

"He's a charmer, slick and insincere."

"He is charismatic, yes. He knows how to get what he wants, and he might be self-involved at times, but I have seen this other side of him. I have seen the real Nicholas Foxworth Crane—the side that you and the rest of his family have been too blind to see—and he is _better_ than the rest of you put together."

"You are so naïve."

"No, I'm not. I used to be, but you helped cure me of that. No, I meant what I said, Ethan. He's better than the rest of you put together. I have seen him donate countless hours of his time to working with disadvantaged kids. He has helped to keep me sane in the insane Crane world. But above all else, he has made me realize what love is—and what it isn't."

"My God." With those words, everything Ethan thought he knew began to crumble about his feet.

Theresa watched his reaction. At one time, she would have delighted in seeing him scrape to make sense of what he, no doubt, deemed incomprehensible. Not anymore, though. No, she wanted to be away from Ethan. She needed to find Fox, to tell him what had happened and that she didn't want Ethan. Her heart raced as she remembered his words about having broken their agreement. He admitted to having feelings for her, but could he feel the same for her as she did for him?

"This conversation is through. I want to go home."

"Just like that?" Ethan choked out.

Theresa paused and scratched her chin, as though in thought. "Well, since we're on the subject of home, you and Gwen need to find a new one. I don't want you in the Crane Mansion."

Ethan's eyes widened. "Throwing your weight around now? Didn't you say only a few moments ago that Theresa Crane was a fraud?"

"So I did."

"Well, it makes me wonder if Theresa Crane was the real deal all along and if Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald was the fraud."

"You don't like what you see? Well, you should. I'm your handiwork. You molded me, fit me into this image. If I'm cruel, it's because I learned cruelty from you. If I'm dark, it's only because you were too consumed by the light."

"Let me get this straight. I'm to blame for your unhappiness?"

"No, I chose to let you have that power over me, but you don't have it anymore, Ethan. I'm through with you."

She turned to walk away, but his strong hand closed around her slender arm. His fingers dug into her skin, and she gasped as he forced her to turn around and look at him.

"We were happy together once, and we can be that way again. It's…_good_…that we're getting all this out into the open. I don't ever want there to be secrets between us again."

Theresa jerked away from him and rubbed her arm. "Ethan, there is a you. There is a me. There is not an us. You loved the girl on the pedestal, so untouchable. Well, I've been touched. I've fallen. Fallen from that pedestal and fallen in love with someone else."

"Wh-what?" Ethan never entertained the notion that she would have truly moved on.

And then methodically, craftily, she plunged a knife made of words into his heart. "You wanted to know about Fox, and I just told you. I love him. I love being near him. I love talking with him. I love sleeping with him. I love laughing with him. I love him."

Ethan staggered back. "You're _sleeping_ with him?"

Her eyes narrowed as she twisted the knife. "Every night for the last three months. He is _incredible_."

"I don't believe this."

"Believe it."

"You're lying to me. I know what you're saying is a lie because you told me that you loved me, that you would _always_ love me."

"The same way you said you would love me forever? You're forgetting something. That was Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald, and didn't you just say that she was a fraud?"

"My brother, Theresa? My _brother_?!?!"

"Half-brother, actually, but yes."

Ethan shook his head in disbelief. "So first there was me. Then you married the man I once believed was my father. Now you're sleeping with my half-brother. Who's next Theresa? Sam? Hank? Noah? I'm going to be running out of male members of the family for you to sleep with before too long!"

"Damn you, Ethan Winthrop! It hasn't been like that, and you know it!"

"What? Are we so interchangeable? I have it figured out, though. You've used him as a substitute for me. You want him _because_ he's my brother."

"No, I want him despite the fact he's your brother, not because of it!" She took a step back. "I am leaving now, and you are to keep your hands off me."

Quietly, Ethan spoke, "This isn't through, Theresa."

She said nothing in reply; she merely left him on the wharf with new memories to replace the old.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chap****ter Fourteen**

No one who knew Gwen Hotchkiss Winthrop would consider her a patient woman. True, she was in a unique position where, most of the time, people catered to her every whim. Patience was an imposition, and it was rarely needed. However, there had been those occasions where her lack of patience showed itself quite aptly. Inept household employees who would dare put anything other than the finest Egyptian cotton sheets on her bed, waiters who placed cubed ice in her drinks instead of crushed ice, chauffeurs who drove too slowly—they'd all been privy to Gwen's bouts of impatience. After all, she'd made little secret that she expected and accepted only the best.

Gwen held a glass between her slender fingers and swished the amber colored liquid around. How little they all really knew about her. In truth, she was the most patient of women.

Hadn't she waited a year and a half to get Ethan back? The plan she and her mother concocted was far-fetched and achingly slow, but it delivered what she wanted. She bade her time until Ethan finally saw Theresa for the lying, manipulative gold-digger that she truly was.

Hadn't her patience been rewarded? She wore Ethan's engagement and wedding rings on her finger. Never mind that the diamond on the engagement ring was smaller than she hoped for, or that the marriage proposal came by default. She still had Ethan. He was her husband; he was her lover; he was hers.

And what did Theresa have? Nothing.

So why was Gwen still waiting for him to come home to her?

It was infuriating.

And even more than that, it was humiliating. When she walked back into the party sans her husband, everyone knew where he'd gone. He went after Theresa.

_Just what the __little mongrel bitch wanted._

But Gwen Winthrop was a patient woman.

She would wait.

And she would use that time to plan.

* * *

As Theresa Crane stood in the foyer of the Crane Mansion, it all seemed so changed to her from how it had earlier. The furniture of rich hues still adorned the room. The black and gold railing on the stairs still made her cringe. Yet it was all different.

The _world_ looked different.

In the months of bitterness and despair that followed her return to Harmony from Bermuda, she felt as though she was owed something for her unhappiness. Julian Crane cost her a life with Ethan; it was a reparation that could never fully be paid.

Yet it wasn't exactly Julian's fault, was it? And by all rights, none of what she claimed for herself belonged to her. The annulment would have gone through long ago. She would have moved on long ago.

As a little girl, she dreamed of living the diamond life. Her mother tried to tell her on numerous occasions that it wasn't what Theresa believed it to be. And her mother had been right. Without love, what good were _things_?

Slowly she walked into the living room. So many memories were contained within those walls. Theresa remembered a girl in a foolish disguise finally revealing herself. Laughter, plans for a beautiful life, were made there. Dreams collapsed, hurtful words spoken, thanks to a tabloid and a twenty-plus year secret. A birthday party, genuine surprise, and a break in the ice. Bitter barbs, maneuvering, and a feigned hatred masking true feelings.

Who knew what else the room had seen?

Theresa turned on the light, no longer content to be in the dark. She'd spent too much of her life in the dark.

The centerpiece of the room was the enormous fireplace mantle. At one time, her picture sat atop it—her engagement picture with Ethan. No more, and that was as it should be. In its place, she saw numerous photos of Ethan; law school graduation, Ethan's wedding to Gwen, one of Ethan and his mother, various snapshots.

Why was the house a shrine to a man who wasn't even a Crane? And why had she never noticed before?

Impulsively, she began to pick up the framed photos. One by one she removed them from the mantle until her arms were full.

"Theresa, what are you doing?"

Theresa spun around and saw the object of worship, his expression crestfallen.

"I'm helping you out with your move. Make yourself useful, Ethan. Find a box or something."

"How kind of you to help. And to think I imagined that you'd be on your back by now with your legs spread for my brother. It's nice to know you aren't completely selfish with your time."

Theresa's eyes narrowed at his remarks. Without thinking, she hurled one of the framed pictures at him. When he saw the object coming toward him, he stepped aside, and it barely missed his head.

"What is wrong with you?" he demanded.

"I have been such a fool! I can't _believe_ I built my life around you."

Ethan walked to Theresa, took the pictures from her, and let them all drop to the floor. The glass from the frames broke with a crash. Shards of it spread in all directions.

"You think you were the only person who has suffered, Theresa? Do you have any idea of how much I loved you? How much I still do? I could ignore the fact that you knew Sam Bennett was my father. I could forgive that. I could even forgive you for marrying Julian. You were drunk; you didn't know what you were doing. But for you to sleep with Julian and to have his child? Do you have _any_ idea of how much I wanted that to be _our_ child?"

Theresa swallowed hard as tears stung her eyes. The baby had been theirs. At that moment, she ached to tell him.

But to what end? Were they together? Were they going to be? He had his world, and she had hers. And Theresa wasn't sure she wanted Ethan in hers anymore.

Ethan's voice softened as he went on. "I couldn't get over it. Not _another_ lie. Believe me, I wanted to. I still want to. I still want you in my life, and while other things have changed over the last few years, that has remained constant."

He touched her face, wiping away a tear with the pad of his thumb. His right hand rested at the nape of her neck. With his other, he circled her waist and pulled her close.

He was getting too near. "You're married, Ethan," she reminded him.

He shook his head. "It never should have happened. I should have followed my heart instead of my head."

She pushed at his hand, but he only pulled her tighter. "I love Fox."

"But you still want this. I can see it in your eyes."

Theresa gasped as his lips descended on her. At one time, she would have reveled in being close to him. She would've clung to him and never let go. But now—now it felt wrong, dirty.

He nipped at her lips, trying to get them apart, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. He was insistent, but all she wanted to do was get away from him. She tried to push away from him, but his hands held her close. She knew he was a strong man, but he'd never used his strength against her.

"I need you," he murmured against her ear as he broke from the kiss.

She tried to twist away from him. "No, Ethan."

"Yes, Theresa." With that, he began to move them toward the sofa.

Theresa couldn't believe what was happening. The situation had spun out of control so quickly. Hadn't they spoken only a few charged words? But now…oh God. Ethan was scaring her. She didn't recognize him anymore.

Deftly, he pushed her onto the sofa and climbed atop her. His hands reached for the hem of her dress, and he began to pull it up.

"Stop it, Ethan," she hissed.

He positioned his knee between her thighs and tried to pry them apart with his hands. "You spread your legs for my brother. Spread them for me."

"Get off me! I said no!" she cried out.

It was then that Ethan realized where he was and what he was doing. He was on top of Theresa, clawing at her legs, and she was begging him to stop.

Shame, horror, and remorse washed over him. "I-I'm sorry." He quickly moved away from her, numb.

Theresa jumped from the couch, tears streaming down her face. "Just leave me alone!" she choked out before running from the room.

Ethan sank to his hands and knees, a shard of glass cutting into his palm. "I've become a monster."

* * *

A shadow in the foyer stirred.

* * *

When had sleep overtaken him? Fox couldn't be sure. But as the door to Theresa's bedroom swung open, he awoke with a start.

Theresa rushed into the room and past the bed into the bathroom. She slammed the door behind her, and Fox could hear her sobs and retches. He immediately got off the bed and walked to the bathroom door.

"Theresa? Theresa, are you okay in there?"

_Of course she's not okay, Crane_, he scolded himself.

"Go away," came the muffled response.

"No. I'm not going away."

He heard what sounded like the lid of the toilet closing, followed by a flush. He turned the knob and saw her sitting on the cold bathroom floor next to the commode. She clutched her legs to her chest.

Immediately he knelt next to her and smoothed her hair.

"I was feeling a little queasy. That's all." And she still felt it. Her equilibrium was askew. Her head felt heavy. Her body ached.

She tried to push thoughts of Ethan from her mind—of what he had almost done to her.

Fox stood and took a glass from the counter, filled it with water, and handed it to her. She rinsed her mouth and prayed for the nightmare to be over.

"I know that's not it," he replied patiently.

It was then that she became fully aware that he was there with her, not with Mary Elizabeth or someone else. She felt a flutter of something else in her stomach. Not nausea but hope.

"You're here."

He lifted an eyebrow and smiled. "Where else would I be?"

* * *

Gwen rolled over in the bed when she heard the door open. Though the room was dark, she could see the light from the hallway behind the figure of her husband.

"Ethan, where have you been?"

He said nothing as he closed the door behind him.

Gwen threw the covers back and swung her legs over the side of the mattress. "I asked you a question. Have the decency to answer me."

Ethan walked to where she sat and stood in front of her. With a fluid motion, he leaned forward, simultaneously kissing her and pushing her back onto the bed. Gwen brought him on top of her and sighed when she felt her husband's erection. She pulled at the button of the pants he wore. Questions and answers could wait until later. She wanted him inside of her.

He ripped at the panties she wore and with one swift thrust, embedded himself inside his wife. Roughly he pushed against her over and over, heedless of the pleasure or discomfort Gwen experienced. All he wanted to do was to feel and to forget, but he couldn't do the latter.

With one last hard thrust, he emptied himself into Gwen, and a name escaped his lips.

"Oh, Theresa."


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

"You're going to make yourself sick if you stay on that cold bathroom floor."

Theresa shot Fox a look.

"Well, sicker then," Fox amended as he helped her to her feet. "I know I'm probably the last person you want to see after how I acted tonight."

"No, you're actually just what I needed," Theresa corrected. "I'm so sorry I hurt you tonight when I told you I wanted to talk to Ethan. I didn't mean that I wanted to reunite with him."

"I-I know that now. I was being an idiot."

"No you weren't. You were just being you." She paused as she watched his look of exasperation. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded. See? Nothing's coming out like I want it to."

"Well, I, for one, am hopeful that this night will turn out the way we both want."

His cryptic words intrigued Theresa. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I'm sorry I hurt you tonight. I never should have paraded Mary Elizabeth Brewington in front of you. I should have listened to what you were trying to tell me instead of acting like a jealous fool who thought he knew everything."

"I haven't exactly given you a lot to believe in," Theresa replied softly.

"Are you kidding me?" he asked as he leaned his forehead against hers. "You make me believe that anything is possible. You might even turn me into an optimist yet."

She smiled despite the heaviness in her heart. "I have so much I want to say to you."

He took her hand, their fingers intertwined. "And I want to hear every word."

The intensity of his stare made Theresa feel warm. "I, um, I want to take a shower real quick. Will you wait for me?"

"I _could_ wait for you," he began before adding with a grin, "but the shower is big enough for two."

She rested her hand on his chest. "I know, but I just need a few minutes alone to process everything. Besides, if you were to join me, I think we'd get distracted and would never get around to having that talk."

"True." He lifted her hand and lightly ran his lips across her knuckles. "I'll wait for you, Gorgeous, as long as it takes."

Impulsively, Theresa threw her arms around him. "I'm so glad you're here, Fox."

"I'm just glad to be here with you," he replied as he brought his arms around her.

He had to make himself let go; she fit so perfectly in his arms. Something in the way she acted, something in her sad visage, worried him, though. What had happened to her? Was this about the party or something else? He couldn't be sure, but he knew was that he wanted to take that pain away. If she would just open up to him, he would try.

"I'll let you get your shower."

"That's a good idea," she replied.

She watched him leave the bathroom and then closed the door behind him.

He was an amazing man. For the longest of times, she'd felt that Fate had turned its back on her, but now she wondered if the old adage that everything happens for a reason was true. If she'd never had the moments of heartache, would she know Fox like she did? Would they have found each other? It was doubtful, and the thought of it scared her.

Slowly she reached behind herself and tugged at the zipper of her dress. It fell to a heap at her feet. She stepped out of it, as well as out of her shoes, and slid her panties down her legs.

It was then that she noticed the bluish-purple marks on her thighs, marks in the shape of fingers.

She gasped at the sight, and it only reinforced what she'd narrowly avoided that night.

She went to turn on the water, and as she reached out, she caught sight of more bruises on the underside of her right arm.

Tears stung her eyes. The bruises hurt her, but not as much as it hurt to see how changed Ethan had become. Where was the man she'd once loved, the man she'd once considered so precious that she nearly died for him?

She'd certainly fought her own battle with bitterness. Had he done the same? Was she responsible for this change in him? The disappointments she'd sown in life?

Theresa stepped into the shower and allowed the water to wash over her. No, if she had to take responsibility for all the unpleasantness in her life, then Ethan had to take responsibility for the unpleasantness in _his_.

He had no right to stand in judgment of her, no right to kiss her or touch her, no right to almost….

Theresa didn't complete the thought.

Where was the tenderness with him she'd once known? Ethan had been her first lover. That night on the beach had been magical. Hearing the crashing of the waves, seeing the stars, finally becoming one with the man she had loved, believing that their future was so bright…what had happened? How could the man who had been so sweet and gentle with her that warm summer night be the same man she saw just moments ago?

"I don't know you, Ethan Winthrop."

* * *

"Get away from me," Gwen snarled as she pushed her husband away from her.

Ethan stroked her blonde hair. "Gwen, what's wrong? I thought you liked to be held after lovemaking."

"That _wasn't_ lovemaking. That was sex, and you were pretending that I was Theresa." Gwen said the name as though it was the greatest of all curses.

Ethan frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"You called her name, and don't you deny it!"

"I did?"

"Yes, Ethan, you did. You know, you promised me that it was over with her, but like an idiot, I turned a blind eye to what's really going on. You chased after her tonight, called out _her_ name during sex. What's next? Are you going to suggest we name our firstborn child after her, too?"

"There is no child," he replied as he looked away from her.

"But there will be someday, and I will be damned if I will sleep with you just so you can fulfill your sexual fantasies about _her_!"

"You know, I did chase after her tonight, and she suggested something that I found very interesting."

"I don't care _what_ Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald _suggested._ Why did you even marry me?"

"We both know the answer to that. We thought you were pregnant. Or at least, _I_ thought you were pregnant. Did you know differently, Gwen? Did you know even then that there was no baby?"

Gwen gasped. "How can you even ask me that? I've never been anything but straight-forward and honest with you!"

"Have you?" Ethan questioned.

"How can you even ask that? I know you were disappointed; so was I, but to accuse me of lying? Ethan, I feel like I don't even know you anymore!"

"That makes two of us. I look in the mirror, Gwen, and I don't recognize the man who stares back. This whole downward spiral started with that damn tabloid. It all goes back to that. You know, back then I could do no wrong in her eyes. My life was perfect one minute, and then the next…God, if I ever find out who…"

"Would you _listen_ to yourself?" Gwen asked as she got out of bed and pulled a robe on. "Even when you don't mean to talk about her, you do. Everything goes back to Theresa!"

Ethan rubbed his eyes. "So it does."

"Look, Ethan, I think I've been more than fair. I've given you time to get over her. I've tried to be understanding and supportive. But know this. I will not be second choice with you. If you want to be a husband to me, start acting like it."

"Where are you going?" Ethan asked as he saw her walk to the door.

"To a guest bedroom. I need some time to myself, and you need to figure out what you really want."

With that Gwen left the room.

Ethan sighed heavily and lay back down. "That's the problem. I already know what I want, and I can't have it."

* * *

When Theresa emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later wearing a fluffy white bathrobe, Fox felt his heart skip a beat. Even with a towel on her head and wearing a shapeless robe, she was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

Theresa could feel his intense gaze on her. "You're staring."

"I guess I am. You're just gorgeous, and I'm a man who appreciates beauty."

She sighed. "I don't feel so gorgeous tonight. I feel like a mess."

"Trust me. You have gorgeous covered."

Fox closed the distance between them and removed the towel from her head. He then used it to remove the excess moisture from her thick, dark hair. "It smells so good."

"It's just shampoo."

"I know, but I still love how it smells. Do you have a brush?" he asked.

Theresa's eyes darted around the room and finally rested upon her vanity. "Um, yeah. On my dressing table."

"Have a seat on the bed. I'll get the brush."

She said nothing but did as he suggested. A moment later, she felt him climb atop the bed with her, positioning himself behind her.

He touched her hair, and Theresa's eyes fluttered. She loved his touches. Even the simplest one had such power over her.

"Will you let me brush it for you?"

"That would be wonderful," she replied softly.

Gently Fox began to run the brush through her long hair. "I have to tell you that I've never done this before."

"Surely you've brushed your own hair," she teased. "Or have you always had other people to do it for you?"

"Ha ha," he replied wryly. "You know what I mean. I've never brushed anyone else's hair. And you know, in the wrong hands, a hair brush can be a dangerous weapon. One tangle handled the wrong way, and bam. You'd be at my mercy."

Theresa rested a hand on his leg. "Then how lucky for me that you happen to be oh-so-capable with your hands."

Fox laughed lightly. "Just capable?"

"That's my story, and I'm sticking with it. I can't have you get too cocky, can I?"

"And here I thought my confidence was one of the things you liked about me."

"You're wrong. It's one of the things I love about you."

"And I love how you keep me on my toes."

Theresa sighed. Life was a mixture. The ugly with the beautiful, pain with joy, the incomprehensible with the easily understood. Yet as she sat on the bed with Fox, the imperfections seemed to melt from the mixture. All she could see were the beautiful aspects of life. Just being around him, being herself, made her heart swell with happiness despite the pain she'd felt from the events of that night.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"That being with you makes me happy."

He set the brush aside. "Does it really?"

She twisted around to face him. "Yes," she replied as she touched his face. "Of course it does! And I don't just mean the physical side of our relationship."

"I wasn't so sure earlier today, Resa. When we were in the car this morning, you sounded like you were feeling guilty for what's been going on between us."

"I've been feeling guilty about a lot of things," she admitted. "Things I shouldn't have felt guilty for, but not anymore." She took his hand and slid it under her robe over her heart. "What do you feel, Fox?"

"I feel your heart beating."

"It beats for you, Fox. Only for you. I've regretted a lot of things in my life, but I've never regretted this."

With his free hand, he unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and then took her hand. She smiled as it made contact with the warmth of his chest.

"What do you feel, Resa?"

Tears came to her eyes. "I feel your heart beating."

"It beats for you, Resa. Only for you. I love you."

"Say it again," she whispered.

"I love you."

"Again."

He grinned. "I love you. I love you. I love you."

Through laughter and tears, she spoke. "We've broken our arrangement, then, but it's a deal breaker that I'll gladly take. I love you, too, Fox. With all of my heart I love you!"

She lay back on the pillows and beckoned him to her. "I want you to stay with me tonight," she whispered as she unfastened the remainder of the buttons on his shirt.

"I'm not going anywhere. I will never walk away from you, Theresa. Not now, not ever," he replied as she pushed the shirt off his shoulders.

Fox settled next to her. Theresa felt chills of anticipation run through her as he lightly pulled at the cord of her robe. It was such a simple gesture, but there was nothing simple about the man himself.

Feeling her breath catch within her, she turned on her side to face him. Tenderly, his thumb grazed her lips.

_It felt so good._

She closed her eyes, reveling in the moment. Opening her eyes once again, she could see the desire and the love in his dark eyes.

He wanted her.

Slipping one arm around her waist, Fox deftly closed the gap between them. His long fingers slipped from her lips and ran the length of her neck before resting at her nape.

"I've wanted to touch you so badly all night," he murmured huskily as he touched his lips to hers so lightly and gently, she almost thought she'd imagined it. He breathed the words softly, seductively, as his mouth continued its languid, confident caress of her lips, her cheeks, the curve of her jaw. "I've wanted to taste you so much," he added before taking possession of her mouth.

Her lips opened under his as she felt him run his hand down the small of her back, sending waves of pleasure through her. His tongue slipped into her mouth, eager to explore her inner softness and warmth.

Theresa clung to him, drowning in the kiss that grew deeper and hungrier. Her head was swimming with sensations.

She didn't protest when he parted the material of her robe. His large, warm hands ran the span of her body, grazing over her breasts and tracing a trail to her waist. His mouth left hers and traveled to her neck, sucking until he reached her right breast. He took its rosy peak into his mouth and bathed her with his tongue.

Nor did she protest when he gently leaned her back and positioned himself on top of her. In fact, her fingers tugged at the button of his pants, desperate to rid him of the obstacle to their lovemaking.

He groaned when he felt her working on his pants. Already he was desperate for her. When she finally freed him, his heart pounded. It was only a matter of moments…

Fox placed his knee between her thighs, and Theresa cried out.

Her bedroom, her sanctuary, melted into another place. No longer was she on her bed, but she was in the living room, trapped on the sofa. Fox was no longer with her.

"_Stop it, Ethan," she hissed. _

_He positioned his knee between her thighs and tried to pry them apart with his hands. "You spread your legs for my brother. Spread them for me."_

"_Get off me! I said no!" she cried out._

"I'm sorry, baby. Did I hurt you?" Fox asked soothing her with a kiss.

But she pushed at his shoulders. "I thought I could do this. I-I can't."

Fox looked at her, confusion washing over his features just as fear washed over hers. "I won't make you do anything you don't want to do. I just thought you wanted to make love."

Tears spilled down her cheeks. "I did. I do. I—"

"Sshhh. Don't cry, Resa. Did I do something wrong?" His hand rested on her thigh, and he watched her wince.

"No, you didn't. You.."

His gaze traveled to her thighs. It was then he saw the bruises.

Fear seized him, "Are you okay?"

"I'm-I'm fine. Just a little sore. That's all."

"Who did this to you?" he demanded.

"Fox, I…"

"Was it my father?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew that didn't make sense. Julian was too occupied with the chamber maid to trouble Theresa.

"No. Please just leave it alone."

"No, I won't leave it alone, Theresa. Someone hurt you, and I want to know who it was."

She pulled her robe back on. "Let it go, Fox."

"Who are you protecting, Theresa? And why would you protect someone who hurt you?"

Then it hit him. All the pieces came together. There was only one person in the world she would shield from guilt for something so terrible.

Fox's dark eyes widened. "It was Ethan!"


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

Fox rolled off the bed and pulled on his pants. "I'm going to _kill_ him!"

"Stop it, Fox," Theresa cried out. "I can't—I can't deal with this right now."

"Resa, my brother tried to rape you! Are you going to let him get away with this because I sure as hell won't!"

Theresa swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood. "This isn't your battle."

Fox felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. "This isn't my battle? You are the woman I love. That makes it my battle! He had no right to put his hands on you, to try to hurt you!"

Theresa placed her hands on his chest trying to soothe him. "No, listen. I told him no, and he stopped. I'm fine. Really I am."

"If he didn't hurt you, then what are those bruises?"

Theresa looked away from him as tears spilled down her cheeks.

Fox rubbed his eyes. "Why are you defending him? God, why does everyone always excuse Ethan's behavior?"

"I'm _not_ excusing what he did. I don't think he meant it. It's just that things got out of hand."

"Looks to me like he was all hands."

"Please, Fox. I just want to forget."

"That's not something that can be forgotten, and you proved it by how you reacted to me a few minutes ago."

"And you think that you can make it better by confronting him now?"

"It will sure make me feel a lot better. He hurt you, so he deserves to be hurt. It's as simple as that."

"Well it won't make _me_ feel better," Theresa countered. "I want to be here with you, Fox. Everything changed tonight—and not because of Ethan. I have so much to tell you. Going and beating the crap out of Ethan when he's drunk and hurting over us isn't going to make anything better."

"Don't you get it, Resa? I don't care if he's a goddamned alcoholic or if his heart has been ripped out and stomped on. The minute he laid a hand on you when you didn't want him to, he crossed the line!"

"Yes, he crossed the line, but I crossed the line with him, too! I used his feelings for me to hurt him. And I threw my relationship with you in his face."

"So what if he knows? Are you listening to yourself? You're doing what you always do. Blaming yourself for things that aren't your fault. Ethan made a choice tonight. You didn't _drive_ him to anything."

"I don't want to believe…"

"That he isn't perfect?" Fox choked out.

"That my life was a lie. That my baby…" her voice trailed off.

"Theresa, what are you talking about?"

"Nothing. I just…I just told him about us, that's all. That's why I needed to talk to you. Our lives are about to change, and I know that _what_ I told him and _how_ I told him was a hard blow."

"You're still making excuses."

"No, I'm not. What he did was wrong, but you charging into his room won't change anything. He'll be gone soon, anyway. I told Ethan he and Gwen needed to move out, and I expect that he will first thing in the morning."

"First thing in the morning? Why not tonight?"

Theresa sank onto her bed. "You're asking me all these questions, and I don't know the answers to them. Fox, I don't know if I'm coming or going. I just don't know!"

Fox knelt next to the bed and leaned against it. "I'm sorry, Resa. I'm not trying to make you feel worse. I'm just trying to understand. I need to understand."

"I don't know how to make you understand because I don't understand. How can a person change so much, Fox? How can he say that he loves me and then try to hurt me like that?"

"Because he has never been the man you thought he was. I hate him. God, I hate him so much!"

"I wish I could. It would make this easier to endure. But the truth of the matter is that so much of who I am today and especially who I used to be is tied up in him, who he is, who I thought he was. It isn't right, it isn't fair; it just is. Fox, he was the first man I loved. When I was a little girl, my mother told me stories about him. I built this whole fairytale existence that never was, and I tried to make it a reality."

Fox's heart pounded. Strange. If someone would have told him a few months ago that someone—_anyone_—would have so much power over him, he would've thought them mad. Yet 

Theresa did have a hold over him. Her words could make him the happiest man alive or even the most miserable.

He was already well aware of Theresa's past with his half-brother, so why did she mention it now? "What are you getting at?"

Theresa cleared her throat. "Fox, I saw Bruce at the party."

Fox shut his brown eye and remembered seeing Theresa dance with the older man at the party earlier that night. How he'd wished he were the one dancing with her, not his father's old friend. In his mind's eye, he could still see Theresa's hesitation, how her face betrayed the absolute disbelief and pain she felt.

Fox remembered all too well.

"Yeah. I know. He upset you pretty badly, too."

Theresa took a deep breath as she reached out and touched her lover's face. "He told me something that absolutely blew me away. Theresa Crane should never have existed."

Fox frowned. She'd said something similar earlier at the party before Ethan and Gwen interrupted them. Theresa corrected him when he called her Theresa Crane, insisting on Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald, her maiden name, instead.

"But she does exist."

"Not for long." Everything would soon come unraveled. She would seek her freedom, though it would come at a cost. "I'm amazed at how the world can look the same but seem so different in just a matter of moments. A simple glance, a few drinks, a few words, and then dizziness followed by awareness comes."

"What did Bruce tell you?"

"Julian and I…we never…we never consummated our marriage in Bermuda. It was all an elaborate hoax set up by Bruce as a joke to get back at your father."

Fox exhaled though he wasn't entirely surprised; he knew his father's friend to be something of a practical joker, but even that was carrying it too far. The news was wonderful and unsettling at the same time. He knew that Theresa agonized over Bermuda and what she perceived to be her undoing. She lamented the fact that it happened and cost her everything she'd always wanted.

But how much was her relief tinged with sadness? None of it ever should have happened.

But it did.

And when it did, her world tilted on its axis and brought her into his orbit.

"Wow. How is this possible?"

"We were drunk. How I thought I could outlast Julian with the alcohol is beyond me. But I imagined I saw Ethan, and I wanted to marry him. It was all I had ever wanted." She swallowed hard and tried to fight down the tears. "There was this little twenty-four hour wedding chapel, and Bruce was only too happy to accompany us. He, um, vouched for us with the justice of the peace and then went back to the hotel with us. And then he gave us champagne that he had drugged. Knocked us both out. We awoke in the same bed, and Bruce stayed close so he could observe the _fun_."

"You and my father never slept together."

"No, we didn't. But I thought we did, and the thought of it sickened me." Theresa clutched her stomach, remembering. "When I found out I was pregnant, Eve and I assumed the baby was Julian's because the only other time I'd been with anyone…"

"Ethan," Fox interrupted.

"Yes Ethan. I was on the Pill, but I guess I hadn't been on long enough."

"Ethan was the father of your baby," Fox said numbly.

"Yes. Yes, he was."

Fox stood and walked to the window. "Does he…does he know?"

Theresa followed. "I was going to tell him and to try to clear the air between us, but when you went back into the party, he just seemed…I don't even have the word for it. I was reminded of how it felt to be on the outside again, and I hated it. I couldn't share what I'd just learned with him, so I ran." She placed her hands on his back, but he turned around, took them in his grasp, and held them to his chest. She could feel his heart beating.

"_What do you feel, Resa?"_

_Tears came to her eyes. "I feel your heart beating."_

"_It beats for you, Resa. Only for you. I love you."_

His brown eyes sought hers. "If you and Ethan had known that what happened in Bermuda wasn't real…if Ethan had known you were carrying his son…everything would be different. You'd be with him right now, and none of this would be happening. I'd just be a polite stranger, your ne'er do well brother-in-law, probably lusting after you."

"You? Polite? I don't think so."

He sighed. "You've got me there."

She touched his face and could feel the beginnings of stubble. "But it did happen, Fox. When I was a little girl, I used to cry a lot. Actually, I haven't exactly outgrown that trait," she added wryly.

Fox managed a small smile despite himself.

"But I used to cry because I missed my father, and I couldn't understand why he wasn't with us anymore. And Mama told me that when God closes a window, he opens a door somewhere else. There are other opportunities, other dreams, other people who will come into our lives.

"What happened in Bermuda closed a window for Ethan and me, and it hurt so much. I couldn't even understand why everything was happening the way it did. I wanted to die, Fox. I truly wanted to die."

Theresa could almost feel the icy water—icy water mixed with shame. She'd been at the most desperate point in her life, the lowest point. Looking back, she could see how unhealthy her relationship with Ethan had been, and it frightened her to think how she almost lost her life and her soul.

"But having that window closed allowed me to open the door to something better…_someone_ better. I can honestly look back at everything that's happened, everything that has prepared me for this moment, and I can say that it's all been worth it. All the pain, all the tears have been worth it because I have you in my life. And don't you know I wouldn't trade you for anything or _anyone_?"

"You deserve better than me."

"Oh, Fox, don't say that."

"Well, from where I'm sitting, it's true. But I'm not noble enough to give you up, either."

"Then don't give up on me, Fox. Don't give up on us."

He ran his hands through her still-damp hair. "I won't, Resa. I've broken a lot of promises in my life, hurt a lot of people, but I don't ever want to be guilty of hurting you."

Fox drew her to him, and she sighed. In his arms, she felt protected.

Ahead of them lay a blanket of uncertainty, but amidst all the uncertainty was one irrefutable piece of knowledge that consumed her thoughts. She loved Fox Crane with all of her heart. That wasn't about to change.

Fox breathed in her scent and tried to quell her tremors. She felt so tiny in his arms. For Ethan to try to overpower her was unforgivable.

Tonight Fox would stay with her. He would hold her, comfort her, soothe her. She needed him to get her through the night, and he needed to be there with her.

But tomorrow—tomorrow would be different.

Ethan might've played the blame game with Theresa, made her feel sorry for him, and claimed to be hurt, but as far as Fox was concerned, Ethan didn't know the meaning of the word pain.

But he was about to find out.


	18. Chapters 17 and 18

**Chapter Seventeen**

The subtle light from the rising sun cast golden-hued rays around the bedroom. The house was still quiet, the calm before the storm.

Fox watched Theresa as she slept. She'd been exhausted, he knew, both physically and emotionally, but sleep had not come easily to her. She poured her soul to him the night before, sharing with him things she'd not shared with anyone else.

It troubled him to think that she believed he would walk away from her, from their love. Of course, in her mind, why should he be any different? Hadn't everyone else walked away from her? Fox tried to tell her he was different. He knew he wasn't the most virtuous or selfless man she could have chosen to love, but he was hooked.

Finally, when the tears ceased and the cries slowed to an occasional sniffle, she fell into a slumber. Relief washed over him when she did finally find what he hoped would be some semblance of peace in her dreams. His arms remained wrapped around her, the only amount of shelter he could offer her.

He'd not managed to rest much. His father had always warned him against dwelling on thoughts of emotions, but Fox found himself going against Julian Crane's warnings more and more as of late.

On his sixteenth birthday, Fox spent a rare afternoon with his interminably busy father. It was a time he'd never forgotten. Fox had been given his choice of new vehicles, as well as some choice advice.

_Everything you do should be calculated. While acceptable and even desirable to delve into fleshly delights, never forget who you are and that it makes you different. You are a Crane, and the world is yours to do with as you wish_.

But Fox had forgotten himself with Theresa. Gone was the cool calculation. So much of who he considered himself to be was wrapped up in his identity as Nicholas Foxworth Crane, son of Ivy and Julian Crane, true heir to the Crane Empire. Yet with Theresa he was simply Fox. The rest was peripheral.

After watching his parents' debacle of a marriage, he promised himself that he'd never let another human being wield such power over him, but Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald held him in the palm of her hands.

How could he not show himself to her? It ate at him to think of all she'd endured, as well as all that was still to come.

Yet dread warred with happiness within him. Last night had been heaven and hell wrapped into one tidy package.

_She loves me. She truly loves me._

_But my happiness was born from her pain._

Theresa stirred slightly, accustomed to waking early to watch him leave. "Fox?" her voice held alarm.

He snuggled closer to her, his chest to her back. "I'm right here," he whispered soothingly.

"Don't leave."

"Not a chance," his smooth voice soothed her, just as his hands smoothed the pale blue nightgown she'd changed into before going to bed.

"I dreamed you were going."

Fox rested his chin on her shoulder, and the day-old stubble rubbed against the silkiness of her skin as he breathed his words into her ear, "Don't worry, Resa. I'm staying put."

The smallest of smiles formed at the corners of her mouth. Her hands rested on top of his. "Good."

"It's still early. Do you think you can go back to sleep?"

"I can now," she sighed. "I love you, Fox."

"I love you, too, Theresa."

But she was already asleep, lost in her dreams.

Sleep didn't come immediately for Fox, though. Too many thoughts filled his mind.

It had taken every ounce of self-control not to hunt down his brother the night before and make him wish he were an only child. It had been his first instinct to do so, but Theresa had been right. It wasn't something that would make her feel better, and that had to be Fox's primary concern.

On the other hand, there was no way in hell he was about to let Ethan get away with his violent actions. But what was there for him to do without Theresa's cooperation?

What was there to do….?

* * *

"Theresita! What are you doing?" The sharp tone of disapproval roused both Fox and Theresa. Fox yawned, unaware of when he'd fallen asleep or what time it was.

"Mama, we were sleeping," Theresa replied as she pulled the covers around her more tightly. "Why are you in here? You didn't knock."

"I did knock, but you didn't answer."

"Then maybe you shouldn't have let yourself in," Fox offered as he squinted his eyes to adjust to the change in light. His tone was nonchalant, but his words had an edge to them.

"Get out of my daughter's bed!" Pilar demanded. "I thought I already told you to stay away from her!"

"With all due respect, Pilar, I told you I wouldn't do that, and I meant it."

"Wait a minute. Time out," Theresa said as she sat up. "You told Fox to stay away from me?"

"Yes, Theresa. Last night. But it's readily apparent to me that he doesn't have the slightest amount of common decency."

"Fox is the most _decent_ man I know. Mama, how could you? Don't you understand that he is the man I love?"

"And I love her, Pilar. Resa is everything to me."

Theresa smiled at Fox.

"Everything to you? I suppose she wasn't everything to you when you were with Mary Elizabeth Brewington last night." Pilar watched as Theresa's face fell. She felt slightly guilty to dampen her daughter's spirits by mentioning another woman, but in the long run, she knew she was doing Theresa a favor. Yes, it would hurt for awhile, but her daughter would move on with someone more suitable. "Or how about Sarah Underwood before that? Or Cynthia Bekim, Mallory Taylor, Jennifer Simms, Aleth—,"

"What are you trying to prove, Pilar? Yes, I have a past. Theresa knows that. She also knows that nothing happened with Mary Elizabeth."

"Is this how you want to live your life, mi hija? Being with a man who tells you that _nothing happened_ when you know how he moves from one woman to the next?"

"I trust Fox with my heart. The past is in the past, for both of us."

"You shouldn't. You're letting…physical pleasures…cloud your judgment."

"This isn't just about sex. Theresa knows more about me than anyone else in the world."

"And Fox knows everything there is to know about me, Mama. My relationship with him is not open for discussion. That's final."

"Theresa…"

"Maybe we'd all feel better if we had a nice breakfast," Fox supplied. "A little bacon, poached eggs, fruit."

Theresa threw the covers aside and hurried out of bed before making a bee-line for the bathroom. She closed the door behind her, but Fox and Pilar could hear her retch.

Fox followed her, stopping outside the bathroom door. He tried to open it, but she locked the door. "Resa, are you okay?"

Pilar was relieved to see he wore pants. She knew her daughter had already slept with him, but it made her feel better to know that in all probability, nothing had happened between them the night before. The sooner Theresa broke free from Nicholas Crane, the better.

"You can go, Nicholas. I'll stay with her."

"I'm not leaving her," Fox replied before turning his attention back to Theresa. "Gorgeous, answer me. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," came the muffled response through the door. "Just a little queasy."

Fox turned back to Pilar. "She must be coming down with something. She felt sick last night, too."

Pilar's heart skipped a beat. It couldn't be. "Last night, you say?"

"Yes, but she's been through a lot. It would be enough to make anyone feel nauseated," Fox replied.

"What do you mean?"

"I've said all I should," Fox replied.

A moment later, the door of the bathroom opened and Theresa emerged. "I didn't mean to worry the two of you. I think I must be coming down with something. When you mentioned food, the thought of it just made me feel icky."

"I'm sorry, Resa."

"It's not your fault. Sometimes when I first get up, I just feel a little nauseated. That's all. So, Mama, why are you here? Surely it wasn't just to warn me of the evils of my choices."

Pilar pursed her lips, her daughter's words troubling her. "I thought I should warn you that Ivy is on the warpath this morning. Apparently, she found some broken pictures of Ethan in the living room. It upset her terribly. She blamed you, but I told her…"

"I broke them, Mama," Theresa interrupted.

Pilar's dark eyes widened. "You what? Why?"

"I had my reasons." She looked back to Fox who stood leaning against the door frame. "I'm going to take care of your mother."

Fox furrowed his brows. "Are you sure that's such a good idea?"

"I deserve at least one more good, old-fashioned knock-down, drag-out fight with Ivy before I tell your father the truth and the tides turn."

Pilar crossed her arms. "What truth is that, Theresa? That you're cuckolding your husband with his _son_?"

"Among other things."

"God help us all."

"I'll come with you," Fox offered as moved from where he stood and touched her arm. His voice dropped. "I don't want you to chance running into Ethan by yourself."

"I'll be fine. I promise. The house is full of people. Everyone's awake. And I'm feeling so much better. Thank you for taking care of me last night and for not leaving."

Fox took Theresa's right hand and held it over his heart. She could feel its constant beating, and a smile played upon her lips. This was his way of speaking to her without saying a word.

_I love you_.

Their eyes met and held one another for a moment before Theresa turned to her mother. "Will you walk me down the stairs?"

Pilar looked from Theresa to Fox. "I thought you wanted to face Ivy alone."

"I do, but I know you, Mama. If I leave you with Fox, you're going to try to make him feel bad."

"You mean I'm going to try to change his mind about your relationship with him."

"No. I meant what I said the first time."

"It's okay, Resa. I actually would like very much to speak with your mother," Fox interjected.

Theresa hesitated, but as she looked in Fox's dark eyes, she knew he meant it. "Fine. I'll be downstairs."

Fox and Pilar watched Theresa leave the room.

"Let's get this over with," Fox began once the door shut behind Theresa. "You want me to stay away from Theresa, but I'm not going to do it. That about sums the situation, don't you think?"

"Still the same Fox. Selfish and spoiled as ever."

"Still the same Pilar. Disapproving as ever. Don't you ever get tired of seeing the worst in people?"

"Since when did you become an optimist?"

"Your daughter makes me see the world very differently. I love her, Pilar. Yes, there have been other women before her, but she's the first I've ever loved. The only one I'll ever love."

"You say that now, but what will happen when the excitement wears off and reality sets in? I would do anything for my daughter, Nicholas. If that means hurting her so she isn't destroyed in the long-run, so be it, but you will not continue your relationship with my Theresa."

"Interesting. Theresa has a mother who smothers her with love to the point that she can't breathe, and I have a mother who believes my very existence is a cruel joke. She and I just can't win, can we?"

"Interesting choice of words, Nicholas. Is that what this is all about? Winning? You know that Ethan and Theresa once loved each other very much. Do you want Theresa because Ethan had her?"

"I sincerely mean no disrespect, Pilar, but back off. Theresa is not a bargaining chip in a conflict between my half-brother and me. Quite honestly, I don't know how you believe Ethan even fits into the equation anymore."

"No matter how many times you say you love Theresa, your words ring hollow because I know how much loathing you have for Ethan, and I know how much Ethan and Theresa loved each other. What better way to get at Ethan?"

"I can accept the fact that you don't like me very much. That's fine. If I were you, I wouldn't like me, either. But don't question my love for your daughter."

"If what I suspect is true, we'll see just how much you love her when your relationship is no longer convenient."

Pilar's cryptic words puzzled Fox. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Pilar said nothing. She merely turned and left the room. Once in the hall, she leaned against the wall.

"Please let me be wrong about this."

* * *

"Phyllis, I want you to get Theresa and bring her to me _now_!" Ivy Winthrop Crane's harsh tone filled the living room and spilled over to the foyer where Theresa stood.

"Begging your pardon, Ms. Winthrop, but I don't believe Mrs. Crane has risen yet. It's Saturday morning, after all."

"I don't care if she's dead in her grave, you will awaken her! And that's Mrs. Crane to you."

Theresa stepped into the living room. "It's okay, Phyllis. I'm up. It's so hard to sleep with Ivy bellowing down here. What's the matter this morning, Ivy? Did you break a nail? Find your heart iced over?"

Ivy held up a framed photograph of Ethan and Gwen. The glass was cracked. "Who do you think you are, Theresa?"

"You know who I am, Ivy. I'm Mrs. Crane, and this is my house. If I feel like doing a little redecorating, I will. And last night, it seemed like those pictures were a good start."

"_I_ am Mrs. Crane."

"Not according to the judge," Theresa replied.

"That entire trial was a set-up, no doubt orchestrated by Alistair. You never should have been declared the legal Mrs. Crane."

"At least we can agree on one thing. Think what you want about me, Ivy, but I never wanted this."

Ivy touched the control on her wheelchair and moved closer to her adversary. "Yes, you did. You wanted it all! When you first set foot in this house playing your role of starry-eyed dreamer to the hilt, you wanted what I had! You didn't care who you hurt to get it."

"I made mistakes, but nothing I ever did was out of malice. Can you say the same?"

Ivy smiled, though her blue eyes remained cold. "Call me back in about twenty years, Theresa. See if you can still make that claim."

"I don't have to. What is all the power in the world without love? I don't want to be Julian's wife. I never did."

"You'll never have Ethan again. Never. I won't allow it."

"Newsflash, Ivy. I don't want Ethan. In fact, I informed him last night that he and his wife need to find a new place of residence."

"You can't do that!" Ivy insisted.

"I can and I already have."

"I don't believe you when you say you don't want my son. I know you almost as well as I know myself. You'll never give up on him. He's your obsession."

"I'm letting go. There's nothing to fight for anymore. Ethan is not the man I believed him to be."

"Oh, that's too bad, Theresa. You mean he's not blind to your faults anymore?"

Theresa swallowed hard as she summed nearly four years of her life into eight words. "No. I mean I'm not blind to his."

Ivy scoffed. "Really, Theresa. I'm surprised you've not given Julian much of a chance. He's slimy, yes. A perfect match for you, I would think. God, I rue the day that I ever let that man anywhere near me."

"That man is the father of three of your children."

"Don't remind me," Ivy replied sourly. "They're all very much like their father."

Theresa pushed back a stray strand of hair, and her heart pounded. While she and her own mother had their share of difficulties, Theresa never doubted that Pilar loved her. Yet the Crane children must have doubted it; _Fox _must have doubted it. "They're your children, too. They needed a mother who would love them!"

Ivy lifted her chin. "I never said I didn't love my children! I'm insulted that you would suggest otherwise."

"What's that old saying? I'm sure you're familiar with it. Actions speak louder than words. At least Julian doesn't pretend to be something he isn't."

"And you think I do?"

"Don't you, Ivy?" Theresa queried. "Everything about you is fake, from the caps on your teeth to your blonde hair to that phony tone you take whenever you want something. I haven't 

forgotten about the so-called surveillance tape that showed Ethan at the cannery with a gun in his hand—the same tape that convinced me to confess to Julian's 'murder.' Nor have I forgotten how you and Rebecca Hotchkiss stood over my casket gloating."

"You were drugged by Alistair. You don't know what you're talking about."

Theresa gripped the arms of Ivy's wheelchair and leaned forward. "Don't I? See, Ivy, I know what you and Rebecca did. _I know_."

* * *

Fox was pulling on his shoes when heard the rattling of a key. His attention turned to the door that led to the adjacent bedroom—Ethan and Gwen's room.

It had to be one of the maids. Surely his half-brother wouldn't have the audacity to enter Theresa's room after what happened the night before. But when Fox saw the door slowly swing open and Ethan's figure in the doorway, anger boiled within him.

Fox moved quickly, grabbed Ethan by the collar of his shirt and pushed him back into his room and against the wall.

The force of Fox's action knocked the breath out Ethan. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Ethan sputtered as he pushed his brother's hands away.

"Don't move, Ethan, or I swear to God that I will kill you with my bare hands," Fox snarled as pinned the other man to the wall, his forearm pressing against Ethan's neck.

Ethan's eyes grew wide when he saw the look of complete hatred in the taller man's eyes.

**Chapter Eighteen**

"Have you finally lost it?" Ethan choked out as he met Fox's steely gaze. The pressure of his brother's forearm against his windpipe made his voice raspy.

Fox shook his head in disgust and backed away from Ethan. "No, half-bro, I finally have everything. And you know that, don't you?"

"Oh, you think you have everything?" Ethan asked as he moved from the wall and straightened his collar. "We'll see about that. Your games won't work, Nicholas."

"When I was a kid, I used to watch you. I saw how people treated you."

Ethan crossed his arms. "I remember. You used to call me Prince Ethan. I hated it."

"Well, _Prince Ethan_, I have to admit that I was jealous. You could do no wrong, and I could do no right. In Mother's eyes, in my father's eyes, even among the servants, you were favored."

"And you were sly, sneaky, and always up to something. Your friends called you Fox for a reason."

"They all had high hopes for you. Me? They just hoped I'd marry well and not cause too much embarrassment for the family. God forbid I tarnish the image they were cultivating for you, the crown prince."

"It's what you do best. You destroy everything you touch, but you'll never admit to it."

Fox rubbed his chin. "See. That's where we disagree. Granted, I'm not an angel, but the one thing I've never been is a hypocrite. If I don't like you, I'll tell you. If I think you've made a mistake, you'll know."

"What are you getting at?"

"You're a damn fool. You had everything a man could want, but you threw it all away."

"And you think you have it all now?"

"I know I do."

"Let me tell you what you have, _Fox_. You have my leftovers. You will always live with the knowledge that when you touch Theresa, I touched her first. When she calls your name, she called mine first. At the end of this road we're traveling, her path will cross with mine. She and I will never be through with each other. So tell me. How does it feel to know that I was there first, and I'll be there again?"

Fox's features hardened as his fist made contact with Ethan's jaw. Ethan was disoriented, but had no time to recover for his brother followed up with a punch in the gut. Doubled over, Ethan coughed.

"Don't you _ever_ talk about her like that again!"

Through a veiled gaze, Ethan surged and tackled, knocking his brother to the ground. The men landed with a thud, and Ethan moved back and stood over his half-brother. "I thought even you were above sucker punches, Fox."

Fox swung his feet around, hit Ethan in the legs and brought him to his knees. "And I thought you were above trying to rape women."

"Oh God," Ethan exhaled. "What are you talking about?"

Anger coursed through Fox, feeding his strength. He'd seen the bruises. He'd held Theresa as she cried and tried to make sense of what happened. And Ethan had the nerve to deny it?

A primal growl escaped from the back of his throat as Fox leapt atop his brother. His knee buried itself in Ethan's stomach, and his fists pounded his brother's face. Fox saw red as his brother's blood spilled onto his hands.

Ethan, stunned by this turn of events and his own lack of sight as blood ran into his eyes, thrashed about. He brought his right fist up, but Fox deflected it. His left hook, however, caught his brother unaware until it made contact with Fox's jaw. Ethan found the strength to push Fox off him and he struggled to stand.

Ethan staggered back, and winced at the pain he felt as he took his shirt and wiped his face.

"You make me sick, Ethan!" Fox yelled. "If there's a hell, I hope you burn in it!"

Ethan coughed and was startled when met by pain in his abdomen. "I've already been there. But if I'm going again, you'll be right there with me."

Ethan walked to the fireplace and removed a fire poker from its stand.

Fox eyed the metal poker in his brother's hand. "You get a kick out of trying to overpower people, don't you, Ethan? Now that you don't have the Crane name to fall back upon, you use brute force."

"You've been the aggressor here. Not me," Ethan shot back.

"How about last night when you trying to force yourself on Theresa? She's half your size and was certainly in no position to be the aggressor."

"I don't know what you're talking about, but I want you to leave, Fox."

"You're a liar! You held Theresa down on the couch in the living room, put your hands all over her, bruised her—really hurt her—and you can stand there and act like you did nothing wrong?"

He tried to think of what Nicholas meant, but much of last night seemed a blur. He remembered going to the country club party with Gwen and how upset Theresa had been. He remembered pursuing her to the wharf, hoping to make amends, but then she dropped her bombshell. He stopped for drinks after that, which had become his habit as of late, but the events that followed seemed fuzzy.

Had he been in the living room with her? Had he done what his brother accused him of doing?

Fox said he'd bruised Theresa. Ethan looked down at his hands, hands that had once caressed her, intertwined her tiny fingers with his own larger ones, but that now held a fire poker.

Ethan saw a cut.

Then it all came flooding back. The desperation he felt. The sense that she was slipping from his grasp.

He tried to claim her again. It was all he'd dreamed of doing since he slipped the ring on his wife's finger. He lived in his own private hell, a hell of his own making.

But she could save him. He needed her to save him.

If only things could be the way they used to be before the lies, before Bermuda, before they threw away what they had.

And he'd tried to reclaim it.

_He nipped at her lips, trying to get them apart. He felt sloppy and wished he hadn't stopped for those drinks._

"_I need you," he murmured against her ear as he broke from the kiss._

_She tried to twist away from him. "No, Ethan."_

"_Yes, Theresa." With that, he began to move them toward the sofa. _

_Deftly, he pushed her onto the sofa and climbed atop her. His hands reached for the hem of her dress, and he began to pull it up._

"_Stop it, Ethan," she hissed. _

_But he hadn't listened. He didn't want to hear her protests. He wanted to hear her words of love._

_He positioned his knee between her thighs and tried to pry them apart with his hands. "You spread your legs for my brother. Spread them for me."_

"_Get off me! I said no!" she cried out._

_It was then that Ethan realized where he was and what he was doing. He was on top of Theresa, clawing at her legs, and she was begging him to stop._

_Shame, horror, and remorse washed over him. "I-I'm sorry." He quickly moved away from her, numb. _

_Theresa jumped from the couch, tears streaming down her face. "Just leave me alone!" she choked out before running from the room._

_Ethan sank to his hands and knees, a shard of glass cutting into his palm. "I've become a monster."_

Numbly, Ethan dropped the fire poker behind him.

"I..I didn't remember until just now. It all seemed like a dream to me."

"How convenient," Fox replied as he crossed his arms.

"Is she…is she alright?"

"You don't even have the right to ask about her. I could kill you for what you did to her, Ethan, and I was more than tempted. But the thing is I told her that I would never leave her, and I meant it. But understand this…if you come near her again, I will give into that temptation. I will find a way to make it happen without getting caught. You _will_ be a dead man."

The weight of his brother's words and the realization of what he had done hit Ethan like a ton of bricks. He staggered back, and his foot caught on the rounded metal of the fire poker. His equilibrium lost, Ethan fell back.

He howled in pain as his hands made contact with the flames and embers from the fireplace. He quickly jerked away from the heat source, but the damage was done.

Fox's stomach turned when he saw Ethan tumble but even moreso when he saw the burned flesh. He ran to the bathroom, removed a towel from the rack, and held it under the running water of the sink. Dripping with the moisture, Fox immediately took it to his brother and wrapped it around his hands.

Ethan's face was a mixture of blood, sweat, and tears. He'd never known anything so excruciating.

"Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. They're burning. They're burning!" he screamed.

* * *

Ivy Winthrop Crane's perfectly painted lips were pressed together in a thin line. "I really don't care what it is that you think I did, Theresa. You can't prove anything."

"We'll see about that."

"Come on. Who is there to tell? No one will believe you. You haven't exactly cornered the market in honesty."

Theresa held her hands out and looked around the room. "How many security cameras would you say are in this house, Ivy?"

Ivy swallowed hard. She hadn't considered the possibility, but now that she did, it alarmed her.

"So. We can do this one of two ways. You can tell me what you…"

"_Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. They're burning. They're burning!"_

Theresa stopped. "That sounded like…"

"Ethan," Ivy finished.

Theresa ran from the room and bounded up the stairs. She was met by Fox and Ethan in the hallway.

"What happened?"

"Ethan fell and burned his hands in the fireplace," Fox supplied quickly. "I've got to get him to the hospital."

Theresa looked at the blood on Ethan's shirt, as well as the streaked blood on his face. "Were you fighting?"

"Not when it happened."

"I'm coming with you."

"No. I don't him anywhere near you."

"But Fox…"

Fox reply was firm. "I said no, Resa.

Ethan's eyes met Theresa's. "I'm sorry, Theresa. I'm so sorry…"

* * *

"I called Sam like you asked," Theresa said as she sank into the plastic chair in the waiting room outside the ER. "He'll be here as soon as he can. I still haven't managed to get hold of Gwen."

"Where could she be?" Ivy sighed as she fought the tears stinging her eyes. "Ethan needs her now."

"He's going to be fine, Ivy. We just have to keep believing that."

A single tear spilled down Ivy's cheek. Her voice softened. "But burns can be so serious. So painful. What if there's nerve damage? What if he never has use of his hands again?"

"Dr. Russell is doing everything she can. She will help him. I know she will."

"She'd better because I'm holding you responsible. You and Nicholas." The wall between them was once again erected.

"What are you talking about?"

Ivy's cool blue eyes focused on Fox who sat by himself on the other side of the room. "You're the cause of every bit of unrest in my family. Nicholas probably said something to Ethan about you that upset him, which led to their fight and Ethan losing his balance. My precious son is hurt right now because he was, no doubt, defending your non-existent honor."

"You know nothing about us," Theresa replied softly. She stood and walked the distance to where Fox sat.

Fox didn't acknowledge her presence. He merely sat in the chair, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together.

Theresa knelt in front of him and rubbed his knees.

"Fox…"

He bit his lip ever-so-slightly. "I thought I asked you to stay away, Step-mommy."

"But I never agreed."

"A technicality."

The distance in his voice alarmed her.

"Take a walk with me," she urged.

"I need to stay put in case we get news."

"The doctors will be in with him for awhile. Staying here and mulling over what happened isn't going to make it better. Let me help you." She ran her fingers through his blond hair and rested her hand on the back of his neck.

"Mother is going to see us," he warned.

"I don't care. Just don't shut me out, Fox. Don't turn me away."

He nodded slightly. "Let's go for that walk."


	19. Chapter 19

**

* * *

**

Chapter Nineteen

Theresa and Fox walked in silence until they were a distance from the waiting room.

Normally, the quiet between them was comfortable, but Theresa felt anything but at ease. Nervousness plagued her, as well as the sense that Fox was trying to distance himself from her. And whenever she felt anxious, she tended to ramble.

"When I was in school, I used to volunteer as a candy striper. Actually, my mother volunteered me. She thought it would be a good experience for me to get my nose out of the fashion magazines and instead of fretting over the things I didn't have, see what I blessings I did have."

"Sounds like something Pilar would do," he replied absently.

"Of course the uniform was horrendous. We all looked like walking candy canes. I tried to convince the head nurse to let me redesign…"

Fox sighed. "Theresa, I know what you're trying to do."

Resa stopped and reached for Fox's hand. "Then you also need to know that this isn't your fault. Take it from someone who's spent too much time blaming herself for things that can't be changed. You didn't push him into the fire. I know you didn't."

Fox licked his lips and looked away. His words were measured as he struggled to keep his tone even. "My mother seems to think I did." He would never forget her icy glare, nor the barely veiled animosity he observed. "Hell, I might as well have. The thing is I hate him. I hate him, but at the same time, I hate seeing him like this. It doesn't make any sense."

"Yes, it does. He's your brother. Family can infuriate us, drive us to the brink, but in the end, it still hurts us to see them hurt."

"I have a feeling that after this, I'm not going to have any family. Of course, I don't imagine that things will be too different from what they are now, but there's something comforting about being a part of something, even if it is for show. To the outside world, the Cranes look like they have it all together, but what are we except one big, dysfunctional mess?"

"Did I ever tell you about the time Miguel put his fist through the glass door of my mom's old house?"

"No."

"I was nine, and he was seven. Very proud. Very macho. He tried so much to be like Luis, right down to the bossiness. We were walking home one day from school, and he just kept bragging how boys were better than girls and that he could be the boss of me because he was a boy. Needless to say, I didn't like that too much, so when we had nearly reached home, I ran ahead of him, got into the house, and then I locked him out.

"He thought he would be clever by going around to the kitchen door, but I made sure that was locked, too. Now Miguel might've been content to play outside until Mama got home—and then rat me out—but he really needed to use the bathroom.

"I stood at the glass kitchen door, taunted him with running water and how he would never get inside. He reared his fist and put it through the glass, in the process cutting himself to pieces.

"He had to get stitches, and Mama was furious with me. I thought for sure that I would be packing my bags to go to Aunt Maria's, but it all blew over."

"You seem to forget that my family isn't like yours."

"Maybe not, but _you're_ forgetting that you have someone in your family—albeit by protest—who loves you very much. That hasn't changed."

Fox crossed his arms. "You shouldn't love me."

"Why? Because it isn't convenient? Do you really think I could turn my feelings off so quickly?"

"I don't know. This is all so new to me."

"Well, love isn't based on convenience. I've got news for you, Mr. Crane. You are stuck with me. Through the good and the bad." She looked down at his hands and saw the scraped knuckles. "How do those feel?"

"A lot better than how his are feeling, that's for sure. This is nothing."

"Let's get you cleaned up. We'll go to the doctor's lounge. Another perk of having been a candy striper is that I know where everything is."

A few minutes later, they stood at the sink in the empty lounge. Theresa turned on the water and allowed it to get warm before she gently guided his hands under the stream. A little anti-septic would take care of any would-be infection of the scrapes, and a few days would diminish the bruising.

Her fingers rubbed against his hand under the water as she cleaned his wounds, but she ached to be closer to him, to take away his pain.

"I know you didn't want me to confront Ethan."

"No, I didn't," she admitted.

Fox's eyes met hers for the first time. "He came looking for you. I was in your bedroom when he did, and I just lost it."

"I can't believe he thought I would want to see him," Theresa said quietly.

"He claims he didn't remember what happened last night. Too much to drink."

Theresa shivered as she remembered his mouth on hers. "I did smell the alcohol on his breath. He wasn't the Ethan I knew."

Fox looked away. "He was the Ethan I knew. So righteous until I confronted him with what he'd done. But you know, he was right about one thing. I do destroy everything I touch."

Theresa turned off the water and reached for a paper towel. "No, you don't."

"Yes, I do! Just look at what happened this morning, Resa. You don't understand how tempted I was to just…"

She lightly dabbed his hands with the towel. "To just what?"

"To kill him. I was so angry, and at that moment hated him enough to where it would have been easy for me to do it." Fox looked at the tile floor. "I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to suffer."

"Listen to me. You didn't cause this. It was an accident, Fox. You don't destroy everything you touch, and it breaks my heart that you even think it!" She held his hand against her heart. "When you touch me, I feel alive."

"How can you say that?"

"How can I _not_? I was dying inside before I met you! Do you have any idea—any idea at all—of how much I love you?" She reached up and stroked his face, and could feel his stubble beneath her fingertips. A purple bruise had formed along his jaw line, and she hurt for him.

"You're the only person who has ever said those words to me."

Tears streamed down Theresa's face as she leaned against her lover and wrapped her arms around him. "Then I want to make up for that. I love you, Fox Crane, with all of my heart."

"With all of your heart?"

"Yes. All of it."

_You loved Ethan once, too._

Fox closed his eyes and hesitantly ran his hands down her back. He would hold her while he had the chance, before she slipped away from him.

* * *

"It's going to be okay, Ivy." Sam Bennett's deep voice resonated through the hospital waiting room. When he received Theresa's frantic call, he hurried to be with his injured son.

Ivy tapped her slender fingers on the arm of her motorized wheelchair. "I wish I had your confidence. I just keep thinking of when he was little, he was the sweetest little boy. We would sometimes go places—just the two of us—and he'd hold out his little hand to take mine. What if the damage is so severe he won't be able to use them again? I wish it were me instead!"

"We can't assume the worst. Eve and the other doctors are doing everything they can for him."

"But why haven't they told us anything yet?" Ivy asked. "It's driving me crazy. Absolutely crazy. And Gwen's not here. I haven't a clue where she is."

"If she doesn't show, I'll try her again in a few minutes," Sam offered. "You know, I was excited about seeing him, but I thought it would be under different circumstances. Strange how a man can go for so many years without knowing he has another son but miss him like crazy when he's gone for just a few months."

"I'm sorry, Sam," Ivy said softly. "I know it doesn't make up for all the time you lost, but I do wish things had turned out differently."

"No use regretting the past. Things turned out as they should. I went on to marry Grace, and we have three beautiful children together. You married Julian, and while I know it wasn't a happy marriage, the two of you had children together, too, so something good came from it."

Ivy frowned. How easy it was for Sam to say. He could look at his son and daughters with Grace as a symbol of the love they shared. Try as she might to overcome it, Ivy only saw her weaknesses when she looked at her son and daughters with her ex-husband. They represented those times she let down her guard, that she gave into lust. "I wish I could erase all those years with Julian," Ivy said as she looked away. "I'd gladly trade them if…"

"No regrets. Isn't that what we agreed on?"

"That's what you agreed on because it makes you feel better. Well, Sam, regrets are all I have."

"I wish you wouldn't talk like that," Sam said firmly.

Ivy shrugged. "Why not? It's the truth. Having Ethan was the only good thing I ever did—and even still I didn't do right by him. I just wanted it all for him, so much that I was blinded when Theresa came into the picture. I swear to you, that girl is the cause of every bad thing that has happened in my family."

Sam leaned back in his chair, wishing he could deflect the bitterness that crept into Ivy's voice. "What happened to Ethan today isn't Theresa's fault."

"You can bet that she's behind it. In some way, this has Theresa's mark on it."

"You seem to think there's more to the story."

"Oh, I know what happened. Nicholas no doubt made a snide comment about the little tramp, though I can't say that I exactly blame him for that. Ethan tried to stand up for her 'honor,' and things got out of hand."

Sam's brows furrowed. "Your son, Nicholas, was involved? I thought Ethan fell. That's how he burned himself."

"No doubt Theresa's version was lacking in detail," she said rolling her eyes. "Nicholas is very much Julian's son. Interested only in what others can do for him, doesn't give a thought how his actions have consequences, and he would sell me if he thought he could fetch a good market price. Naturally, he and Ethan don't get along. They were fighting before it happened. " Ivy paused before adding, "And it's possible they were fighting _when_ it happened."

Sam's alarm went up. "Ivy, are you saying you believe Nicholas purposely pushed Ethan into the fireplace?"

"Yes. I think that's exactly what happened."

* * *

Fox and Theresa slowly walked the hall that led to the waiting room.

"Might as well get this over with," he sighed.

"It'll be fine. You'll see," Theresa replied.

Fox stopped when he spied his mother speaking with Sam Bennett. "Look at them. So chummy. No wonder my mother doesn't have tolerance for my sisters or me. We aren't his children."

Theresa rubbed his arm. "Chief Bennett is a good man, Fox. Don't fault him for being here with your mother."

"She's readying the firing squad, Resa."

"I can handle her. Can you?"

"I've been doing it for twenty-four years."

The two approached Sam and Ivy.

"Any word yet?" Theresa asked.

"No. We're still waiting for Eve to come out," Sam replied. He stood and crossed his arms as he eyed Fox. "Nasty bruise you have on your jaw. Mind telling me how you got it?"

"Ethan and I were having a difference of opinion."

"This 'difference of opinion' better not have resulted in my son getting burned, because if I find out that it did…"

Theresa looked to Sam. "Chief Bennett, Fox is not responsible for what happened to Ethan."

"Sam, Ivy.." Dr. Eve Russell's smooth voice interrupted. "I have news."

"Dr. Russell, what can you tell us?" Theresa asked.

"Ethan's suffered second degree burns on both hands, though the burns on the right hand are more extensive."

"Second degree?" Ivy repeated with a frown. "What does that mean?"

"Thermal burns, or burns caused by exposure to excessive heat, are placed into three categories," Eve explained. "First degree, which are superficial injuries that involve only the epidermis or the outer layer of skin. Then there are second degree burns, which occur when the first layer of skin is burned through and the second dermal layer is damaged. As I stated, this is the type of burn Ethan has."

"How will this affect him?" Fox asked.

"It will be painful and take a number of weeks before he is completely healed, but there should be no permanent tissue or nerve damage. He's lucky."

"Lucky?" Ivy repeated. "This never should have happened!"

"Perhaps not, but if it had been a third degree burn, he would've suffered damage to all layers of the epidermis, as well as nerve endings, and required skin grafts to repair the damage." Eve paused. "His hands are not his only injury. Ethan also has a broken nose, a cut on his forehead, and, I suspect, a cracked rib or two, though we've not x-rayed him to confirm that. It's unlikely those injuries were sustained in his fall."

Ivy whirled her wheelchair around and glared at her son. "You did this to him!"

Fox said nothing.

"I came as soon as I got your message!" Gwen rushed upon the scene. "Where's my husband? I want to see him."

"He's pretty heavily medicated right now, mostly in and out," Eve replied, "but I'm sure that having you near would be of comfort to him."

Gwen nodded.

"Before you go in, I should warn you that his face will look different to you."

Gwen swallowed hard. "Different how?"

"He has a broken nose, and it's badly swollen. He also has two black eyes, most likely caused by the trauma to his nose."

"Oh my God!" Gwen held her hand to her chest. "I just can't believe this could happen!"

"Honestly, it looks worse than it actually is. Our primary concern needs to be the care of his hands. With the burns he sustained, it's crucial we prevent infection from setting in and that we make him as comfortable as possible."

Ivy pressed the small lever of her wheelchair and moved it forward, closing some of the distance between her second born son and herself. "Are you proud of yourself, Nicholas?"

Theresa stood in front of Fox. "Stop it, Ivy."

"I wasn't talking to you, Theresa. It should be obvious to you by now that my son can fight his own battles."

"Fox has been through enough."

"Please! Ethan is in that hospital room dealing with excruciating pain, and you're worried that I might hurt 'Fox's' feelings? Since when have you and he become so close?"

"Ivy," Sam interjected. "You need to calm down. This isn't helping anything."

"Calm? You want me to be calm? Nicholas tried to kill our son, Sam!" Ivy refocused her attention on her profligate son. "You are your father's son through and through! Have you nothing to say?"

Fox met his mother's harsh gaze. "Are you finished?"

"Why do I bother?"

"Let me answer, Mumsy. Yes, I am my father's son, and I'm proud of it. But I'm also your son, which you seem to forget most of the time unless you're looking for someone to whom to extol the virtues of Ethan and you need a black sheep to use as a comparison. The sad part is that you don't know me. Hell, you don't even know your precious Ethan! You want everyone to fit into a 

mold of what you perceive to be true, while you pull the strings behind the scenes to make it happen."

"I never…"

"What? Lied? Manipulated?" Fox looked to Sam. "Try telling that to Chief Bennett."

"What _you_ did is inexcusable!" Ivy sputtered.

"This isn't helping anything," Dr. Russell intervened. "If you're going to argue, please do it outside of the hospital. Raised voices are upsetting to the patients."

"I'm a little lost," Gwen interrupted impatiently. "Could someone please tell me what this has to do with Nicholas?"

"Absolutely nothing," Theresa replied.

"Only if you call trying to kill your own brother nothing," Ivy replied. "I will never forgive you for this. _Never._"

"Ivy, you're making some serious accusations," Sam began evenly. "Don't you think we should wait to hear what Ethan has to say?"

Eve straightened the collar of her white lab coat. "It will be some time before he'll be able to make a statement."

"You aren't planning on leaving town any time soon, are you?" Sam asked Fox.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Glad to hear it. This may all be a huge misunderstanding, and I hope it is. But if Ethan tells me that you are responsible, I will take action as an officer of the law, and all your daddy's money won't buy you out of it, young man."

"I have nothing to hide."

* * *

Gwen Hotchkiss Winthrop settled next to her husband's bedside. Though Eve told her he looked rough, Gwen was still ill-prepared for the sight that met her.

Ethan's nose was swollen to twice its normal size, and she noticed that he breathed shallowly through his mouth as he slept. His eyes, which fluttered beneath their eyelids restlessly, were encircled with deep purple bruises. A cut on Ethan's forehead was bandaged. His hands were elevated in a sling above his body, bound in layers of gauze.

"Well," she said as nonchalantly as she could muster, "we did say for better or worse. Eve says you'll be asleep for awhile, but this is killing me. Are you like this because of Theresa?"

Gwen shook her head. How would Theresa be involved in the mix with Ethan and Nicholas? It made no sense.

Perhaps Nicholas goaded Ethan about Theresa, or maybe he even said something offensive.

"You always have been too honorable for your own good. You couldn't see how she tried to tear us apart. While I admit that I'm no saint, thank God I'm not like her."

Gwen looked through the narrow opening in the curtain that offered privacy from the other cubicles. She could see the pacing of the others. Ivy looked miserable, as did Sam. And Theresa—Theresa was right by Nicholas's side, just as she'd been since Gwen arrived.

How strange. Didn't the others think it strange, too? Didn't they see it?

Gwen leaned forward slightly, and her eyes widened when she saw Fox rest his hand on Theresa's waist.

"That little slut."

Now it all made sense. The closeness she and Ethan seemed to interrupt the night before in the foyer of the country club, the way Theresa stood up for Fox in the waiting room, and the fight Fox and Ethan had.

"They're lovers," she whispered breathlessly.

Gwen looked back to Ethan. Gone was much of the pity she felt. In its place was fury. Ethan knew; that had to have been the reason he and Nicholas fought.

"Will you learn _now_ to let go?"

Unbelievable. Would they ever be free of Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald?

Oh, yes, they would.

Gwen smiled. This might've been the best thing that could possibly happen.

"Checkmate, Theresa."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

Hospitals, Julian Crane decided, would be infinitely more tolerable if not for the sick people who inhabited them. Yet circumstances, or rather his father, dictated that he make an appearance. When word got out about Ethan's accident and Nicholas's possible involvement, the media were going to have a field day.

It was damage control time.

Still Julian had to admit that he did find himself somewhat concerned for Ethan's well-being. Ethan was, after all, his son for over twenty years until news of his treacherous ex-wife's affair surfaced.

But to Alistair Crane, blood ties were everything, as was the family image. It would hardly do to embrace the lovechild of the chief of police. How utterly…_common_.

And so Julian Crane found himself doing his father's bidding, though he hated every moment.

When he came upon the waiting room outside the emergency room, he immediately spotted a familiar tall figure.

"What's this I hear about a mêlée between you and Ethan, my boy?" Julian maintained a nonchalant tone, though he had more than a passing interest in his son's explanation.

Fox forced his hands in his pockets. "It's true."

"And why wasn't I informed? To have heard about it from…" Julian Crane wrinkled his nose, "_servants_ of all people. It's unconscionable!"

An image of Ethan's burned flesh flashed through Fox's mind. "We were in a slight hurry to get here," he replied wryly.

"Mmmhmmm. And how long have you been here?"

Fox cocked his head to look at the clock situated on the wall. "About three hours, I would say."

"I'm always the last to find out," the older man grumbled.

"I hadn't seen you since last night when you and.."

"Marisol."

Fox frowned. "No, that's not her name, is it? I thought it was Margarita or something like that."

"Margarite," Julian furnished.

"Yes, since you and Margarite, were playing your games."

Julian chuckled at the sumptuous memory. "It was a rather splendid night…and an extraordinary morning. Really, son, you need to find another means of working out this excess energy instead of resorting to common brawls. There are, after all, some sweaty pursuits of the more _pleasurable_ variety. You used to know that."

"I had my reasons for confronting Ethan."

"Do share."

Fox cast a glance at Theresa who sat across the room with Sheridan. He wanted to be near her, but they were running the risk of arousing suspicion if they remained too close. Though the truth was bound to come out, there was a time and a place for it—and the hospital waiting room didn't suit either.

His aunt and Theresa seemed deep in conversation, but Fox could see Theresa's fatigue on both her face and in the way she held herself. Then there was the matter of the physical ordeal she'd been through. He remembered the bruises he'd seen the night before, as well as how she'd felt ill. As usual, though, she was more interested in taking care of others instead of taking care of herself. In a few minutes when everything was more settled, he'd suggest that she eat some lunch.

"Not right now," Fox replied clearing his throat.

"You know, this really isn't the way that Cranes handle conflict."

"Right. You'd prefer to hire someone to do your dirty work for you," Fox commented. "Guess I'm just more of a hands-on kind of guy, Pops."

Julian glanced across the room and saw Sam and Ivy. "I assume your mother is milking this for all it's worth with Sam Bennett."

"For all it's worth and then some. According to her, I'm a would-be murderer."

Julian rolled his eyes. "She always did have a flair for the dramatic. I assume Theresa is giving you grief, too. She'd sell her soul to get Ethan back. This must've sent her in a tailspin."

Fox chewed the inside of his cheek. How little his father knew.

"Step-mommy would surprise you. She's been amazing to me, my staunched ally."

Julian frowned. "What does she want in return? We are not throwing another fiesta at the mansion."

"You don't give her enough credit."

"I think I give her too much credit. Take last night at the country club. All I asked was that she make an appearance and present herself with some dignity. But what did she do? She nearly had a meltdown! Why was it that she got so excitable?"

Fox sucked in a breath. There was so much the man who stood before him didn't know, and his life would change when he did find out.

But now wasn't the time.

"You know Bruce. He's as crass as the day is long."

"A man after my own heart," Julian chuckled.

"My understanding is that he said something that offended her, and she just didn't take it well."

"You were quite gallant. I must admit I was surprised when I saw you go to her rescue."

"Anything for the family," Fox replied.

"But you still won't tell me what happened with Ethan?"

"Not a chance in hell."

* * *

Sheridan picked at her freshly manicured fingernails. At the rate she was going, she would need to have them redone. Whenever she was anxious, her fingernails were typically the first casualty.

And Sheridan Crane Lopez-Fitzgerald was beyond anxious.

Something had happened. Something big. More than anyone was saying.

"I ran into Chad at the Book Cafe. He said he was going to pick up Whitney from tennis practice and head over here as soon as he could."

Theresa glanced across the room at Fox, who stood talking with his father. "I-I'm not sure I'll be here, Sheridan."

Theresa's sister-in-law was taken aback. "Oh."

"It's just…awkward…you know? And I know now that Ethan is going to be okay, so…"

The blonde crossed her arms. "Okay. What's going on with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that every other word from your mouth used to be about Ethan. Wherever he was, that was where you wanted to be."

Theresa's brown eyes met Sheridan's blue ones. "He's not for me."

Sheridan exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "I'm glad to hear you say that. Ethan and Gwen deserve a chance at happiness…and so do you, Theresa."

"I'm going to have my happiness, Sheridan, just as soon as this nightmare is over. I'm determined."

"So are you going to divorce Julian?" She fought the urge to sneer as she mentioned her brother's name.

"Sooner rather than later," Theresa confirmed.

"Luis will be thrilled."

"I'm sure."

"Pilar will be, too. She wants you away from the bad influence of all things Crane."

Theresa's face felt hot when she remembered the harsh words her mother spoke that morning. It was difficult to be faced with the realization that she disappointed her mother, but she wouldn't sacrifice her own happiness for approval, either.

"But Sheridan, you're a Crane, and you're not an evil person."

"And I'm not exactly a part of them, am I? I'm an outsider in my own family."

"But is anyone really _a part_ of them? Look at Nicholas, for example."

"Theresa, my nephew is more of a Crane than anyone realizes. He has this sense of entitlement that rivals anything I've ever seen in Julian or even my father. He'd do anything to get what he wants—hurt anyone. Just look at what happened with Ethan today."

Theresa's ire rose. "That's not fair, Sheridan. You don't know what happened!"

"Don't I? This petty jealousy has been going on for years. Anyone with two eyes in his head could see the animosity Nicholas felt for Ethan a mile away. I'm not sure what set him off, but I'm sure it didn't take much."

"What happened today wasn't because of some petty jealousy, Sheridan. And Fox isn't the type of man to physically attack someone out of spite. Have you ever known him to get into fights before?"

"No, but," Sheridan began.

Theresa interrupted. "You don't know the whole story, so hold your condemnation."

"Hold on a second. Why are you defending him? Last I heard, you hated him."

"Things aren't always what they seem," Theresa replied as she stood. Yet just as quickly as she stood, her head swam, and her legs felt wobbly beneath her. She fell back to her chair. "Whoa."

"Whoa is right. What happened just now?" Sheridan asked steadying her.

"I just felt a little woozy, that's all."

"I'm going to get you some water. Stay here."

"I don't think I'll be going anywhere for a few minutes," she grimaced.

* * *

"I think Theresa's drunk," Julian declared.

"That's ridiculous," Fox replied to his father. "She hasn't had a drop all day."

"Well, she just stood, wobbled a bit, then fell back to her seat. Though, perhaps you're right. She's gigglier and more fetching when she's drunk. She just looks…sick."

But Fox wasn't listening. He was already crossing the room. He knelt next to Resa's chair.

"You okay?"

"I just felt a little woozy. No big deal," Theresa replied.

Fox fought the urge to touch her. "Have you eaten today?"

She shook her head. "Food wasn't exactly appealing to me this morning, and I haven't really thought about it since."

"You've got to take care of yourself, Gorgeous," he said quietly. "I have so many plans for us, and all of them require that you keep up your strength."

A small smile formed at the corner of Theresa's lips. It was a good sign that he was teasing her. Maybe he was starting to feel better about what happened.

"What kinds of plans?"

"The kinds of plans that are best talked about in private," Fox replied with a smirk. "Where'd Sheridan go?"

"To get me a glass of water."

"Think maybe you could persuade her to go with you to the cafeteria?"

"I'm really not hungry, Fox. I'm just a little queasy. The thought of eating right now.." she wrinkled her nose.

"Ethan's going to be okay. You heard what Dr. Russell said."

"I know, but I want to make sure _you're_ going to be okay."

Fox looked back to his mother and Sam. "Chief Bennett doesn't scare me. What does have me a little unnerved is what Ethan will say. Will he tell the truth about what happened?"

"I've wondered that, too." Theresa shivered. "I want him to make it clear that he slipped—that you didn't push him."

"Look, no matter what happens, I'll be fine Theresa. I don't want you worrying about me. We know the truth, and that's all that matters," he replied. "That, and making sure you're okay. Seriously, T., I want you to get something to eat. For me."

"You are amazing."

"Not that I mind hearing that, but you're changing the subject."

"I can't get anything by you, can I?"

"I wish I could kiss you right now," he whispered. "Before when we were sneaking around, it didn't bother me as much. Now I just…" his voice trailed off. "I want to shout it from the rooftops that you're the woman I love."

"Soon. We'll be able to tell them all very soon," Theresa replied. "And when Sheridan gets back, I'll try to eat. For you."

"I heard my name," Sheridan said as she carried a paper cup of water.

Fox turned and looked to the woman who stood behind him. "I was just telling Theresa that getting something to eat might make her feel better. Maybe you'll take her to the cafeteria."

Sheridan's blue eyes narrowed as she looked to her nephew. "It's too bad you aren't as concerned about other members of your family." She handed the water to Theresa.

Fox stood. "Since when have they been concerned about me?"

"It's always about you, isn't it?" Sheridan asked shaking her head.

Theresa sighed. "Stop it! I wish the two of you would learn to get along."

"We've never gotten along," Sheridan remarked. "Must have something to do with all those years of having to deal with getting my _dear_ nephew out of scrapes. Tell me…how many small fortunes have you blown on gambling and other excesses?"

Fox scratched his chin, as though to ponder his aunt's question. "A few, but not as many fortunes as you've blown on gigolos who were only after your money. Guess you were too…," he cleared his throat, "caught up in the moment to see what was really going on."

Sheridan's blue eyes grew wide. "You little bastard!"

"Wrong brother, Auntie. That would be my half-brother, Ethan. And yes, he is a bastard in more ways than one."

"A word of advice, Theresa," Sheridan began, her voice harsh, "stay as far away from Nicholas as possible."

"Don't let my presence keep you from talking about me, Sheridan."

Fox's sarcastic tone only server to further set Sheridan on edge.

"Can you walk?" she asked Theresa.

"Yes, but..," Theresa didn't want to leave Fox. She couldn't help but want to be near him, even when circumstances were at their most unpleasant.

"Let's go the cafeteria. It's getting too crowded in here."

Theresa's eyes met Fox's.

"Sheridan's actually right for once, Step-mommy. It is too crowded in here, and you need to get something to eat."

"So do you," she said quietly. Theresa knew for a fact that Fox hadn't eaten anything, either.

"I will later."

* * *

Theresa picked at the bland macaroni and cheese in the bowl before her.

"I don't understand how two brothers who were raised in the same family could turn out so differently," Sheridan commented.

Theresa frowned. "I don't think you can really predict those things, Sheridan. I mean, look at you and Julian. You're as different as night and day."

"But there's also a huge age difference with us. He's almost old enough to be my father," Sheridan commented. "And he _is_ old enough to be yours. I know I said it already, but I'm glad you're moving ahead with this divorce. You deserve a fresh start in life."

"I know you don't like Nicholas very much, but he didn't have the same advantages as Ethan. Ethan was heralded as this golden child to the detriment of his siblings."

"Or maybe people noticed Ethan because he was a nice kid," Sheridan replied. "Come on, Theresa. If I had a dime for every time someone used the poor little rich kid excuse…"

Theresa coughed slightly at Sheridan's ironic words.

"What?"

"Nothing. Would you pass the salt?"

Sheridan grabbed the glass salt dispenser. As Theresa reached for it, her shirt sleeve moved up, revealing her bruises.

"Theresa, what's that?"

"What's what?"

Sheridan took Theresa's hand in her own and held it steady while she pointed out the bruise in the shape of fingertips.

Theresa pulled away from her sister-in-law. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Did Julian do this to you?" Sheridan clenched her fists.

Theresa shook her head vehemently. "No. Julian hasn't touched me."

"Who else would?"

"I told you I don't want to talk about it."

"I need to know!"

"Why?"

"Because I care about you."

"It's none of your concern. Leave it alone."

Theresa pushed the bowl aside, grabbed her purse, and stood.

"Oh, Theresa, don't rush off," Sheridan pleaded.

"I'm not going to have this conversation with you. You don't want to know the truth; you can't handle it, and you won't believe it."

Sheridan's brows furrowed as she watched her sister-in-law depart. Theresa's cryptic words sent a chill down Sheridan's spine.

_What happened to you, Theresa? And what do you mean about not wanting the truth?_

* * *

"Oh good. There you are, my nubile bride."

"Not now, Julian," Theresa hissed pushing past her husband.

Julian moved quickly and stood in front of her. "Not so fast, wifey. I want to know what happened between Ethan and Nicholas. You're going to tell me."

"You already know the important details. Ethan tripped, burned his hands in the fireplace, and Nicholas brought him here."

"But they were fighting beforehand, and rumor has it, the fight was over you. Now what would those two possible have to contend over where you're concerned?"

"Why, Julian, I thought you already knew."

"Knew what?"

"I just have this amazing talent for ruining relationships. Naturally, I saw that there were few other relationships in the Crane mansion that weren't in shambles, so I used my wiles to orchestrate an argument between the two of them. Next up: the Crane employees."

"That might actually be amusing if not for the fact that you're purposely evading my question. Why were Ethan and my son fighting over you?"

"Pops, let it go," Fox said as he approached his father and lover. He crossed his arms and cocked his head. "That was a quick lunch."

"I didn't have much of an appetite. I found the company to be a little overwhelming," she admitted.

Julian rolled his eyes. "I feel like I'm hearing only half of every conversation. I will find out what's going on. Mark my words."

Eve approached the trio.

"Any changes, Dr. Russell?" Fox asked.

"Yes, actually. Ethan is awake, and he wants to see you." Dr. Russell's brown eyes fixed on Theresa. "You, too, Theresa."

Theresa nodded nervously. "Thank you."

"You know what they say? Three's company."

Fox shook his head. "Three's a crowd, Pops. You weren't invited into this conversation. Come on, Step-mommy. This is what we've been waiting for."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Harmony was known for its strange goings-on, but as Julian Crane watched his son and wife disappear down the hospital corridor, he was convinced he'd seen it all. Didn't they hate each other? God, what was the world coming to when sworn enemies inexplicably began calling truces?

"This is all wrong," he muttered. "Next thing you know, one of those heinous fast-food restaurants will open on the property adjoining ours."

Ivy Winthrop Crane surged ahead with her wheelchair, stopping a few feet away from her ex-husband. "Talking to yourself, Julian?" Her tone was taunting.

Julian rolled his eyes dramatically. If her snarkiness was any indication of her mood, it was obvious that she was feeling better than before. "What can I say? Must have something to do with the fact that I find my own company far more preferable to yours."

"Or perhaps you've finally gone over the edge," Ivy responded.

"At least I _can_ go. Where can _you_ go without that chair? Hmmm?"

Ivy averted her gaze, and her face grew flushed. "It just goes to show that class cannot be bought and sold. Thank you, Julian, for reminding me exactly of why I loathe you so much."

"You needed reminding? How touching."

Ivy huffed. "I didn't come here to argue with you."

"No, I suppose you needed amusement since your beckon call ex-lover doesn't seem to currently be at your beckon call."

"I see where Nicholas gets his acerbic tongue."

"Thank you," Julian replied as he straightened his tie.

"It wasn't a compliment. You do realize he tried to kill Ethan today, don't you?"

"You're being overly dramatic. Ethan's life was never in danger."

"Not in danger? Then why do you suppose he's in the hospital? To top it off, Nicholas has shown no remorse. None!"

"You truly think our son to be capable of attempted murder? Do be more careful next time you bleach your hair Ivy. The chemicals have affected your brain."

"There's so much more to the story than we're getting, Julian."

"That I will admit," he conceded. "But I would certainly never jump to the conclusion you are."

"That's because you have no intuition, Julian. The only thing you know how to jump is a loose woman."

"Says the mother of my three children," Julian smirked.

"That's right, Julian. I _am_ a mother. My son is lying in a hospital room in misery because of Nicholas. If Ethan tells me that what happened to him was purposeful…"

Julian interrupted. "Don't even think it! You will not have our son arrested."

"Why Julian? Because your father wouldn't stand for the bad publicity?"

"Because _I_ won't stand for it. To hell with Father!" Julian paused and looked around him, suddenly concerned with the watchfulness of Alistair Crane. "I didn't mean that last part."

"Am I to believe that you've suddenly developed paternal instincts, Julian? Please."

"Someone has to look out for Nicholas. You never have."

"Oh, but his step-mother certainly has today. Damn you for tying Theresa to us, Julian."

"You're the one who won't leave the mansion. No one's forcing you to stay."

"And miss out on reciprocating the torment I've endured for over twenty years? You should be so lucky. Still, I find the sudden camaraderie between the two rather peculiar."

Julian scratched his chin. "Yes, it is. And I intend to find out what's going on."

* * *

As Fox and Theresa stood in the doorway of Ethan's hospital room, he took her hand in his. Their fingers intertwined, and Theresa drew strength from him.

"I'm glad he's in a private room now," Fox remarked.

Theresa nodded. "There's no telling what he's going to say. I just…I just dread it, I guess."

Fox cupped her face. His touch was so light, so tender it sent shivers through her body. She wanted so much to be with him that her heart ached. If only they could shut out the world.

"I'll be right there with you, Resa. I won't let him hurt you ever again."

She leaned into his hand and placed a kiss on his palm. "I know you won't." She sighed. "I believe you, Fox, and I believe in you."

Fox drew in a breath as he studied her features. He was startled by the love he saw reflected in her eyes. Her dark eyes glistened, and he longed to pull her into his arms and never let go.

How strange. He'd always prided himself on being so self-sufficient, but as he looked at her, he knew that sufficiency did not exist for him anymore without her by his side.

He brushed his lips across her forehead before the two finally entered the hospital room. It was sterile in appearance, decorated with muted tones on the walls and minor equipment.

Ethan lay on the bed, covered by a sheet. His chest was bare, though his ribs were wrapped in binding to restrict his movement until they healed.

"Thank you for coming," Ethan spoke. His deep voice sounded hoarse, strained.

Fox's eyes widened when he saw his brother, and a wave of guilt washed over him. Then he looked to Theresa and remembered what Ethan did to her; his guilt left as quickly as it came.

"I can think of a lot of other places I'd rather be right now," Fox replied.

"You and me both," Ethan grimaced. He shifted his weight and fought back a groan.

"Where's Gwen?" Theresa asked. Her voice remained distant. "I thought she'd be here."

Ethan's eyes fixed on Theresa.

_His Theresa_.

No. She wasn't his Theresa anymore.

Circumstances saw to that.

Lies.

Time.

Stupidity.

Greed.

At one time, he would've given up anything and everything to be with her, and she'd felt the same.

But now she asked about his wife.

His wife who wasn't Theresa.

His wife who could never live up to the ghost of a living woman.

And his Theresa—who wasn't his Theresa—was in love with his brother, or at the very least thought she was.

_Life used to be so much easier_.

"I asked her to give us some time alone. She wasn't thrilled, but she understood my need to see the two of you privately."

Fox turned and glanced through the glass pane of the door, not trusting that his sister-in-law had indeed made herself scarce, or his father for that matter.

"What are you doing?" Ethan asked.

"Checking for eavesdroppers."

"Mother and Gwen were concerned our fight would leak out to the tabloids," Ethan began. "They asked that hospital security be kept tight around me."

"Actually, I was more worried about Father—that's Julian to you—listening in or even Gwen herself."

Ethan turned away. "She acted like the cat that swallowed the canary," he said quietly.

"Why did you want to see us?" Theresa blurted.

"Please. Have a seat," Ethan requested.

Hesitantly Theresa did as he asked, though she pulled the chair away from the proximity of his hospital bed.

Ethan's blue eyes sought Theresa, but she still would not meet his gaze. "I have so much I want to say to you," he began. "To both of you actually. In my head, I had it all planned out. In my medication haze, it seemed perfect, but now that you're here, my tongue feels heavy and my words don't seem adequate."

"I have a few things I want to say to you, as well," Theresa said evenly.

"You go first."

Theresa squared her shoulders as she chose her words and measured her tone. "The Ethan I knew and loved is dead."

"Theresa—"

"You said I could go first, Ethan, so don't interrupt."

"I know what you're going to say.."

"Stop it! God, do you have any idea of how many times you've uttered those words, and you didn't have a clue what I wanted to say? You wanted me to fit your mold of who you _thought_ I was. Just stop thinking you know because you don't!"

"Fair enough," Ethan conceded.

"At one point, you were more important to me than the air that I breathed. Every thought that consumed me, every dream, every glimpse of happiness revolved around you—or rather who I thought you were. I don't recognize you, Ethan. It's more than the bruises or swollen nose. I look at you, and I see a stranger. Did I ever really know you?"

"You have every right in the world to be angry with me, Theresa. What I did to you was…."

"A violation, Ethan. Not just of my trust in you, or a violation of my space, but it was a violation of our history together and what used to be beautiful memories. Those are now tarnished forever in my mind, in my heart. I look back and wonder if all of it—all the happiness and pain—was just an illusion. Did I know the real you? Or is this violent, bitter man the real you?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

"Why shouldn't she wonder, Ethan?" Fox interjected. "You spent so much time cultivating this image of yourself, and it used to really frustrate me that I could never measure up in everyone's minds, but now—now what I've known all along has been proven to me. You are nothing but a cold, controlling bastard."

"You and I have different issues to work out, separate from the ones I have with Theresa."

"That's not true anymore," Theresa replied. "What amazes me is that you were willing to dangle your so-called love before me like a carrot on a string. If I was good enough, worthy enough, sweet enough, beautiful enough, honest enough, I could have that love. I worked myself into a frenzy trying to reach your expectations, but somewhere along the way, I stopped living for you and began living for myself. You couldn't stand it! You would push me away but pull me back toward you once you saw me slipping from your control. And of course, the greatest slip from your control of all was when I acknowledged that I was in love with someone else. What did that make you think? How else were you supposed to control me except by force? Everything in our relationship has been about control. But here's the deal. You don't control me anymore."

Fox's brown eyes grew wide at Theresa's words. "Wow."

"You think my wanting to be with you was about control?"

"Yes," Theresa replied simply.

"Isn't that what all your life has been, Ethan? An exercise in control?" Fox asked. "You spent the first twenty-five years believing you were the true Crane heir only to find out you weren't. Every aspect of your life, from where you were to go to school to whom your friends would be, was controlled by my grandfather, father, and our mother. You, in turn, extended that control to those around you, from your co-workers to the women in your life. And then, all of it was gone. So what do you control now, half-bro? Certainly not your temper."

"You're not exactly one to talk."

"I pick and choose my fights carefully," Fox replied. "Otherwise, you would've been in here last night when I saw the bruises on Theresa."

Ethan swallowed hard as he looked to Theresa. "I-I bruised you?"

"Yes, you did. My arm where you grabbed me, my legs where you tried to pry them apart."

Fox's stomach turned, and a fresh supply of anger surged through him.

"I'm sorry. I know that isn't enough, that it never could be enough, but I am truly sorry, Theresa. I wouldn't hurt you for anything in the world."

"You've been finding ways to hurt me for years now, but no longer."

"Well, I am in no condition to hurt anyone right now," Ethan conceded. "Thanks to my half-brother."

Fox cleared his throat. "Don't you mean thanks to your own clumsiness?"

"I don't see it that way," Ethan responded slowly.

"Just how do you see it?" Theresa asked.

"My accident would have never happened if I'd not been fighting with Fox. My equilibrium was askew."

"You had a hangover, Ethan. Don't you think that had something to do with it, too?" Fox asked.

"So you would attack a man with a hangover?"

"Yes. Only because you would attack a woman half your size."

"The police are going to want to question me," Ethan said.

"What are you saying?"

"My words could have a bearing on where you spend the night, Nicholas."

Theresa stood and pointed at the man in the hospital bed. "And my words could have a bearing on where _you_ spend the night, Ethan."

Fox placed his hands on Theresa's shoulders and squeezed them lightly, an attempt at reassurance. "Hold on a sec, half-bro. Is this your way of threatening me?"

Ethan shook his head, reconsidering his methods. "You've got it all wrong, both of you."

Fox crossed his arms. "Then by all means, enlighten us."

"I betrayed Theresa's trust, but I want a chance to earn that trust back. Nick, you and I have never been close, and I know we never will be. I also know that you aren't good enough for Theresa." Ethan took a deep breath, "But neither am I."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that I asked the both of you in here because I wanted you to know that I won't be filing criminal charges against you, Nicholas. And Theresa, I wanted you to know how truly sorry I am for what I did last night. I was way out of line."

"Yes, you were," Fox said.

Theresa said nothing.

"Don't you want to say anything to me?"

"I have nothing to say to you. From this point on, we are strangers. My tomorrows will not include you; nor will I even think of you." Theresa turned and walked to the door but hesitated as her hand touched the knob. She turned slowly and finally met Ethan's gaze. "Just so you know, Fox is the best thing that has ever happened to me, so don't you ever say he's not good enough again."

With that, she left the room, leaving the half-brothers alone.

Ethan turned his head from Fox, tears pooling in his eyes.

"Was it worth it?" Fox asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You had your chance, and you blew it. So tell me. Was it worth marrying Gwen?"

"Get out."

"Oh, I will when I'm ready. See, Eth, you had chance after chance with her. And what did you do? You toyed with her. Yo-yoed between Gwen and Theresa, always wanting what you couldn't have. Always judging based on your own ideas of perfection."

"I never said I was perfect."

"But you sure as hell played the part every chance you got. Can't say I blame you. I mean, you had this ready-made cheering section comprised of Mother, Sheridan, Sam, Pilar, and anyone else who happened by."

"And you thumbed your nose at us every chance _you_ got."

"True," Fox conceded, "but it was the only way I could get any attention with Prince Ethan around."

"Don't call me that."

"Why not? That's how they all saw you. The perfect prince to the Crane Kingdom. Only turns out that you aren't such a prince after all. You've lost the kingdom, the most amazing woman in the world," Fox's eyes grazed his half-brother, "as well as your dignity. Tell me. Will it be Gwen who wipes your ass when you can't? Because I have to tell you that she doesn't seem like the nurturing type."

"Get out," Ethan repeated.

"I must confess this conversation has become stale. How lucky for me that I get to go home with Theresa, and she really is a breath of fresh air, isn't she?"

If Ethan had the use of his hands, he would've leapt from the bed and pushed his brother out of the room. As it was, all he could do was wait for Fox to leave on his own accord.

Fox lifted a brow and meandered toward the door. He reached for the knob, but stopped.

"One last thing, Eth."

"What is it?" the bed-ridden man replied impatiently.

"Have I mentioned lately how glad I am that I'm not you?"

With that, Fox exited the room.

Once in the hallway, he looked around, but saw no sign of Theresa. "Where is she?" he muttered.

* * *

Theresa leaned against the neutral colored hospital wall as another wave of nausea swept over her. She'd been walking the long halls, trying to clear her head after her encounter with Ethan—to no avail. And now she was dealing with the persistent queasiness yet again.

_This_, she decided, _is getting old._

The truth of the matter was that she hadn't felt completely herself for several weeks, but instead of getting better, her symptoms were worsening. It was utterly frustrating.

"I haven't felt like this since…"

When _had_ been the last time?

Then it hit her with the force of the highest hopes and greatest fears rolled into one.

"...I was pregnant with Ethan Martin."

Could it be?

No.

They'd been so careful, hadn't they?

But the thought lingered as she touched her abdomen, wondered, and hoped.

_Did we make a baby, Fox?_


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

As Theresa looked through the Plexiglas window which separated the newborn infants in the nursery from the proud, beaming family members and other well-wishers in the hospital corridor, the tightness in her heart, the stinging in her eyes reminded her of what she had and what she lost. It was ten months ago that she lost her son, but it seemed a lifetime ago. Circumstances changed, people changed, but the feelings remained the same.

One boy-child stretched his little body, opened his tiny, toothless mouth, and demonstrated his powerful set of lungs as he cried furiously. A nurse checked on him, determined it was time for him to eat, and carefully scooped him from his crib to ready the child to visit his mother.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?"

Gwen Hotchkiss Winthrop's voice cut through Theresa's thoughts, and she jumped a bit, startled. "I didn't hear you approach."

"You were too busy lost in regrets, I imagine," Gwen commented as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't even bother trying to deny it. I've seen that wistful look enough times to recognize it for what it is."

"I'm not having this conversation with you."

"But I know all too well what it was like for you. I was there. Remember?"

"I remember quite well, thank you. And I do appreciate how you helped deliver my son."

"You should've been in the hospital. I tried to tell you, but you were so hell-bent on holding onto Ethan. I just wish your son hadn't paid the price for your imprudence."

"You told me a lot of things that day," Theresa said quietly. She remembered how Gwen had bragged that she was back in Ethan's bed. At the time, Theresa hadn't believed her. It was only later that she discovered that Gwen was being truthful about that, as well as her medical condition.

"You should have listened."

Theresa's patience was thinning. "Is there something you want, Gwen?"

Gwen licked her lips and debated whether to spring the most delicious tidbit of information she recently accrued on her adversary.

No. The time wasn't quite right. Everything needed to be in place.

_Everything_.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing. It's been quite an eventful day, after all."

"You certainly are cheerful for a woman whose husband is in the hospital. I thought for certain you wouldn't let Ethan out of your sight, Gwen."

Gwen's jaw clenched. "He's not going anywhere for a day or two, and you're not going anywhere near him from now on."

"Not an issue. In fact, I would suggest that you shouldn't even bother having the chamber maids unpack your bags. You and Ethan won't be staying at the Crane Mansion."

Gwen fought back laughter. "Who are you to dictate our living arrangements?"

"Mrs. Julian Crane." Theresa's right brow shot up as she spoke her measured words.

"Funny how you only invoke his name when it suits your purposes. At all other times, you try to disavow your relationship with him. But you like the Crane name, don't you, Theresa?"

"Go away, Gwen."

"Oh, I will, but only because I choose to do so. Just remember this. You came about having the name out of sheer, stupid luck. It can just as easily be taken from you."

"Look out, Gwen. Your fangs are showing."

"And so are your true colors, Theresa. However, I must say scarlet has never looked so mundane. Hawthorne would be disappointed." Gwen smiled knowingly and treaded away.

Theresa watched and wondered about Gwen's words. Was she bluffing, or did she really know something?

No matter. Everyone would know soon enough. One way or another.

"Theresa, are you alright? You look a little flushed."

Dr. Eve Russell's words shook Theresa from her daze.

"I—I'm fine. At least, I think I am."

"It's been a rough day for you. I can imagine."

Theresa nodded slowly. "Do you have a few minutes?"

"Sure. I was just on the way to the office. Why don't you come with me? It'll give us a chance to catch up."

"I'd like that."

The two women walked down the hospital corridor.

Eve pulled her stethoscope from around her neck and held the instrument in her hands. As casually as she could, she spoke, "Whitney tells me she hasn't been seeing as much of you lately."

"I guess I've just let time slip away from me. Between work and family obligations…" Theresa's voice trailed off. "That's not really an excuse, is it?"

Eve shrugged. "You have to decide that for yourself. The two of you have always been so close. I hope you'll remain that way."

"She'll always hold a dear place in my heart."

"But…"

"No buts, Dr. Russell," Theresa replied vehemently.

Eve stopped at the door to her office. "She's worried about you. Frankly, so am I." She turned the doorknob, walked inside, and waited for Theresa to enter before she closed the door behind them.

"Whitney doesn't need to worry about me, and neither do you. I'm like a cat. I might stumble, but I'll always land on my feet."

Eve settled in her swivel chair behind her desk, the tiniest hint of a smile on her face as she studied the younger woman who settled in the leather chair across from her.

Theresa suddenly became acutely aware of Eve's gaze. "What is it?"

"Just remembering. Hearing you talk about landing on your feet reminds me of when you and Whitney were children. You'd always encourage her to try something new, to get out of her comfort zone."

"I'd pull her out kicking and screaming."

"Yes. You'd get that gleam in your eye."

"Much to Mama's dismay."

"You always had so many dreams, Theresa. So many big dreams."

"I still do."

Eve frowned. "Then why are you still married to Julian?"

Theresa shifted in her chair. "Wow. I wasn't expecting that question."

"Someone needs to ask it. I promised myself I wouldn't interfere, but you mean too much to me to just let this slide."

Theresa thought for a moment before responding. "Maybe it's to punish him. Maybe it's to punish myself."

"It's time to move on. What happened in Bermuda when you married him and got pregnant by him is in the past. There is nothing to tie you to him now."

"It's not just about Bermuda," Theresa replied quietly. "It's about so much more."

"He was the father of the son you lost."

"Julian was never the father," Theresa said quickly.

"I know in your heart he was never the father, but…"

"Things aren't always as they seem," Theresa interrupted. "You know, I was devastated to learn of my pregnancy. I looked at it_**—**_at even my baby_**—**_as a cruel twist of fate's knife into my heart. And then he was born. And Dr. Russell, he was so beautiful, so precious."

"Yes, he was."

"And I never knew love, such complete love, until that moment when I first held him in my arms. It didn't matter to me how I thought he was conceived. It was as though this great cloud lifted and the sun began to shine again. And just as soon as the sun began to shine, the rains came."

Eve swallowed hard as memories of the son she lost filled her mind. Years later, she still dreamed of holding her baby, the child whose loss tore at her essence. She knew what Theresa went through when Ethan Martin died. She knew because she'd lived it.

"It's time to stop punishing yourself, Theresa. Under the best of circumstances pre-eclampsia is a dangerous condition."

"But my foolishness didn't exactly lead to me being in the best of circumstances, did it? It's because of me that my baby died."

"Stop it right there. How were you to have known? And when you consider that your judgment was impaired from your illness…oh, Theresa, you _cannot_ blame yourself!"

Eve's words did little to assuage Theresa's guilt. She stared at her hands, fixated on the wedding ring she wore.

"Dr. Russell, if I were pregnant, what would be the chances of suffering from pre-eclampsia again?"

"I won't lie to you, Theresa. Women who have a history of pre-eclampsia are more likely to develop it again than women who've had normal pregnancies."

Theresa touched her abdomen as fear seized her.

"Of course, with constant monitoring, we're able to detect the condition early, though mother and child are never completely safe from the condition until delivery."

"So what you're saying is that I could lose a second child?"

"What I'm saying is that the likelihood for complication is more prevalent. But you need to remember that a little knowledge goes a long way. With your medical history, any obstetrician worth his or her salt would closely monitor future pregnancies."

"And the earlier the better?"

"Yes. Theresa, may I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Are you asking me these questions because you are thinking of getting pregnant?"

Theresa shook her head. "No. I'm asking you because I think I may already _be_ pregnant."

Eve tried to mask her surprise. "I'm sorry. I should have realized. With other married patients that would have been my first guess. I just assumed that your relationship with Julian was not sexual."

Theresa recoiled at the thought of being touched by her husband, her shudder noticeable to Eve. "If I am pregnant, Julian isn't the father. He and I do _not_ share a bed. Never have. Never will."

Relief washed over Eve. "I'm sure Ethan will be thrilled. I know his situation is rather complicated, as is yours, but the two of you…."

"Ethan doesn't need to be informed of this. It doesn't concern him in the least."

"But Theresa…"

"Can you do a pregnancy test, Dr. Russell?" Theresa interrupted. "And please_**—**_don't say anything to anyone. I don't want word of this leaking out to the wrong people."

"Of course," Eve replied as she took her cue from Theresa that the matter was not open for discussion.

* * *

Gwen Hotchkiss Winthrop tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder as she rounded the corner of the corridor that led to her husband's hospital room. She stopped in her tracks when she saw her brother-in-law.

Upon hearing her footsteps, Fox turned. "Oh. You."

"Well, hello to you, too, Nicholas," Gwen replied as she crossed her arms.

"I thought you might be someone else."

Gwen ran her tongue along the inside of her mouth. "Like say….Theresa?" She lifted her eyebrows knowingly.

"What's with you?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Gwen asked, her eyes widening.

"You look like you're about to pop….and it isn't just the ten pounds you put on during your extended honeymoon."

"Do you really want to antagonize me? Are you sure that's such a smart thing to do?"

Fox's brown eyes narrowed. "Do retract those claws. You've known me long enough to know that I live to antagonize you. Can't say you're making it much of a challenge these days. There's no denying it's a fun pastime."

"But we've never had as much fun as you and Theresa, have we?"

"Shouldn't you be chewing me out for my part in Ethan's hospitalization instead of droning on about my step-mother?" Fox asked stifling a feigned yawn.

"But she's like a bad penny. She just keeps turning up in places I would never have expected….such as your bed."


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

Fox chortled.

"What?" Gwen demanded. "Have you _nothing_ to say?"

Fox ran his long, tanned fingers through his hair. "I wish I had a camera so I could take a picture of this moment. Your expression is just…priceless. Granted, no one would pay to have it, but I digress. Just what is it you think you know?"

Gwen tapped her foot. "Knowledge is power, Nicholas. I know that with certainty. Are you going to stand before me and blatantly deny that you are having an affair with Theresa? Be truthful for once."

Fox's brows furrowed. "There's definitely something wrong with this picture. _You_ chastising _me_ about honesty?"

"You're deflecting my questions."

"And in your sanctimonious self-delusions, you must've missed one very important fact. I am not accountable to you. I don't have to answer your questions, whether they be about my feelings for Theresa, or for that matter, what time of the day it is."

Gwen's nostrils flared slightly, some of the wind in her sails spent.

"If you had nothing to hide, you would answer me."

"Tell me, something, Gwen. Don't you think it odd that you are more concerned with my relationship with Theresa than you are with your husband's well-being? Where is all the indignation toward me that others in our circle seem to have? Where is all your wifely concern? You have Ethan." Fox cleared his throat before adding, "Well, sort of. As much as any woman can have a man who doesn't really want her in return. You 'won.'"

Gwen raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I have won. So what can I say to you in recrimination that others haven't? I do have certain feelings about the harm you've caused my husband, but once again, you try to deflect the matter at hand. You see, the thing that is so interesting to me is that Ivy, Sam, and Julian have not hit upon the obvious. Your staunchest defender has been the step-mother that you've shown every indication of hating. On the outside, that is. But he who protests too much…" her voice dropped. "What do you think the repercussions would be if word of this were to get out? It seems only fair. Tit for tat. Theresa destroys lives….Theresa's life is destroyed in turn…"

"Listen to me, Gwen, and listen well. The game is over. This whole conversation might be amusing if you weren't so damn obvious. It's pathetic that your life revolves around a woman you hate."

"No more pathetic than a man who has an affair with his father's wife. Really, Fox. I knew Theresa was crass, and I knew that you had your moments, but this situation is truly explosive. If Alistair were to find out…."

"Then he would need to know everything, Gwen. Everything."

"I agree," she interjected.

"Including my theory of how the tabloid reporter caught wind of my half-brother's paternity."

"Please. That's old news. Everyone knows that Theresa is the one who tipped off the reporter."

"Was she? Because from where I'm standing, she had nothing to gain. You, however, did."

"Nothing can be proven. You would be foolish to pursue that 'theory.'"

"The media is rather intriguing, Gwennie. Just the hint of impropriety is enough to prompt an all out investigation among respectable news organizations. Throw the tabloid press into the mix, and I'm certain you would be fed to the wolves. After all, it is a 'dog eat dog' world. So you see, I'm going to pretend that you and I didn't have this conversation. You're just blowing hot air, per usual."

With that, Fox strolled away.

Gwen's gaze stayed fixed upon her brother-in-law. "Oh, but you told me _everything_ I needed to know."

* * *

Theresa's face felt flushed. Her heart pounded. Her stomach flip-flopped.

She knew immediately. Eight weeks along.

_The door to Theresa's bedroom swung open. Theresa looked toward the doorway from where she sat on the window seat. Fox grinned back at her, but she didn't return a smile. Instead she looked to the darkness outside._

"_You didn't eat much at dinner. I made you a sandwich."_

_Incredulously, she replied, "You? Made a sandwich? With your own two hands?"_

"_Well, Cook was breathing down my neck when I invaded his territory, but yes, this is my handiwork."_

_Theresa was taken aback. "That was so…_thoughtful_ of you."_

"_You sound surprised."_

"_I am a bit," she admitted._

_Fox closed the door behind him. "I have to help you keep up your strength so I can work even _harder_ to get you tired."_

_Theresa cleared her throat. "Oh, so this is about sex…not my well-being."_

_He shrugged. "Listen, Theresa. All I'm offering is a sandwich. Now if you're looking for dessert, I can make a few suggestions."_

_Theresa's eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms. "I can as well. There's the door. Use it."_

"_Ouch. Forget sex. Now I need comfort." Fox splayed his fingers across his chest as though he'd been stabbed in the heart. "How about it, Step-mommy?"_

"_Don't call me that. You know I hate it," Theresa replied as she looked out the window._

_Fox spanned the distance between them and settled across from her on the window seat. He sighed as he picked up the sandwich and took a bite. "Mmmm. Tastes great. You don't know what you're missing."_

_Theresa grabbed his hands and pulled the sandwich he held toward her, taking a bite herself. With a mouthful of sandwich, she said, "The door is in the other direction."_

"_I like it right here," Fox replied._

"_Stubborn ass."_

"_You like my stubborn ass."_

"_What are we doing?"_

_His eyes perused her body. "Bantering. It's great foreplay."_

"_I don't think I'll be very good company for you tonight. I have too much going through my mind."_

"_Such as…"_

"_I don't want to talk about it."_

"_I thought we were closer than that." He set the sandwich on the plate he held and passed it to her. With his freed hands, he dug in his pockets until he found a quarter. "This should sweeten the deal."_

"_Oh? A quarter for my thoughts?"_

"_I offered one once before. Hopefully this time, it will yield better results. Seriously, Resa, what's eating at you?"_

_Theresa hesitated. Yet as she finally met his dark gaze and saw the sincerity in his eyes, she decided to confide in him. "Was there ever a time when you were with your mother and father and truly happy?"_

_Fox cleared his throat. "I'm not exactly the poster boy for idyllic childhoods."_

"_I know," Theresa replied mournfully. "I'm sorry they hurt you. If the question makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to answer."_

"_No, it's okay," he replied. "There actually was one time. It was Christmas. I think I must've been about eight years old. We didn't usually do the whole present opening bit as a family, but we did that year. Strange. I can't even remember what presents I got. What I do remember is that Mother and Father actually seemed at ease with one another. They laughed, smiled at each other when they thought no one was looking, and they just spent time with us. I watched them that day, and I could pretend that we were a normal family. I-I wished that it would always be like that. There'd never been another Christmas like it before—and there hasn't been one like it since."_

_Theresa tried to imagine Julian and Ivy settling down with their children to open presents, and it was a stretch for even her active imagination. Now it seemed the antipathy the ex-spouses felt for each other permeated the entire room whenever they were near one another._

"_It must have been wonderful."_

_Fox tried to push aside the memory. "It scared the hell out of me. It didn't last, though my sister Olivia was born nine months later."_

"_I don't have many memories of my mother and father together, but what I do remember is how our house used to always be filled with laughter. My mother had the most beautiful laugh. I never hear it anymore. And my father—my father knew how to light up a room. Mama was never the same after Papa disappeared."_

"_How long has it been?"_

"_Eighteen years today."_

_Realization sunk in for Fox. No wonder Resa had been so edgy. The commemoration of such an anniversary reminded her of what she lacked._

"_A lifetime ago," Theresa whispered, "but it seems like only yesterday."_

"_That must have been difficult for your family."_

"_It was our turning point, and my first taste of the reality that just because someone says he loves you, that doesn't mean he'll stay around. I think I like my fantasy world better than reality sometimes."_

_Fox ran his hands up her bare legs and rested them on her knees. "Let me give you a reality worth experiencing, Theresa."_

"_You are confident."_

"_What's there not to be confident about?"_

"_Oh, how silly of me," Theresa replied sarcastically. "I forgot that you have the whole world at your fingertips."_

"_I'm just interested in having one woman in particular at my fingertips," Fox retorted as he took the plate from her and set it aside._

_He stood and extended his hand to her._

_She took it, and he pulled her to her feet._

_His fingers toyed with the satin belt that held her robe closed. With one slow tug, he pulled at the longest end._

"_Fox…" she protested._

"_Trust me."_

"_Famous last words," Theresa muttered as he completely untied the belt._

_Her robe fell open, revealing a pale pink nightgown, a startling contrast to her tanned skin. Unconsciously, he licked his lips as the low-cut gown afforded him a view of her chest—enough to tantalize, but not enough to satisfy._

"_You shouldn't be covered for what I'm going to do to you."_

"_For what you're going to do?" Theresa challenged._

"_Trust me," he repeated. His hands moved up to her shoulders and pushed her robe off. "You aren't going to want any barriers for this."_

_Despite her heavy heart, the smallest of smiles threatened to play upon her features. "Are you trying to seduce me?"_

_Fox grinned. "If you have to ask, I must be doing something wrong."_

_He walked behind her and stood. A spark, an awareness passed between them. His hands rested on her shoulders once again, only this time his fingers toyed with the straps of her thin nightgown._

_Her eyes fluttered at his touch, at his nearness. She could lose herself in him so easily._

"_You are so beautiful in this moonlight." He slid the straps off her shoulders and watched as the gown fell from her body leaving her clad only in pale pink panties. _

"_Trust you, hmmm?"_

_His eyes perused her bare body and became increasingly aware of how tight his jeans suddenly felt. "Trust me," he repeated. "Lie on the bed on your stomach."_

_She did as he commanded, and he settled next to her on the bed, though he didn't lie down. Instead he began to massage her back. She sighed when his hands made contact with her skin and reveled in the sensations that coursed through her body._

"_Do you remember the first time we met?" he asked as he worked the tightness out of her shoulders._

"_It wasn't that long ago," she reminded him._

"_True, but you were a bit hysterical."_

"_Don't remind me," Theresa replied dryly._

"_I have a confession to make."_

"_I thought you never confessed anything. At least, according to Father Lonigan…"_

"_I'll make an exception in this case."_

"_Is it juicy?" she asked._

"_I'll let you be the judge of that. When I came in that night, I saw you in the bed."_

"_You told everyone else you didn't realize I was in here until I started screaming!"_

"_I lied."_

"_So if I hadn't screamed?" Theresa asked._

"_I don't know. You tell me."_

"_That doesn't exactly make a girl feel special. If it hadn't been me, you would've gladly bedded someone else."_

_Fox sniffed. "I do have standards."_

"_Are you sure about that? Because from where I'm standing…er, lying…I'm basically interchangeable with any other woman. I just happen to be convenient."_

_A deep chuckle escaped from Fox's throat. "Theresa, you are many things, but convenient is _not_ one of them. Sneaking around with my father's wife doesn't exactly put you at the top of the list for suitable lovers. Nor are you interchangeable with any other woman. If that were the case, I wouldn't be here right now, and I certainly wouldn't keep coming back."_

"_Why do you come back?"_

_He spoke weighty words with a detached casualness. "Isn't it obvious? I'm addicted to you. You are my drug. During the day, I crave you. During the night, I can never be sated for more than a few minutes because then I only want you more." _

"_You like the element of danger. That's all."_

"_I've been on dangerous ground with women before. Dealt with irate husbands. Believe me when I say this…thing…between us isn't about the danger. It's about chemistry and good old-fashioned lust."_

"_Don't you ever want more than this, Fox?" Theresa whispered._

"_What more is there?" he asked. _

"_Love."_

"_I'm not like you, Theresa. I don't believe in the fairy tales, and from what I've seen of love, it only makes people weaker, not stronger."_

"_You're wrong!" she replied vehemently. "Love is the most powerful force there is. It's like gravity. You can't fight against it, but that isn't a sign of weakness. It just shows how love can bind two people, tie them in a way that nothing can break them apart."_

"_No offense, Theresa, but if that's your criteria for love, you haven't been very successful thus far."_

"_I thought you were supposed to be seducing me, or giving me a reality worth experiencing, or something along those lines. All you're doing is making me angry."_

_His lips traced the small of her back, sending chills of delight up and down her spine. "Or maybe I'm aiming toward having some hot, angry sex," he murmured in her ear._

_She gasped at his words._

"_I see I still have it in me to shock you."_

"_And I have it in me to shock you, too," she retorted as she sat up._

"_Oh?" Fox asked as his gaze wandered downward to fix upon her soft, round breasts. He reached out, casually stroking her right nipple with his thumb._

_Almost involuntarily, she arched against his touch. With a slight upturn of her mouth, she replied in a hushed tone, "You have no idea."_

_Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt. Slowly, achingly slowly, she undid them. One button at a time, she revealed his tanned, muscular flesh. Lightly—ever so softly--her fingertips grazed his small, male nipples, then trailed downward until her hand rubbed against his arousal, still constrained by clothing._

_Fox grinned as a flood of desire coursed through him. "Theresa, you naughty girl," he teased._

_She playfully pushed him back on the bed. Climbing atop him, she leaned down and throatily spoke in his ear. "Why bother to be nice anymore? What has being nice gotten me?"_

_Reaching for the button on his jeans, she added, "And if I were a nice girl, I certainly wouldn't be about to ride my step-son."_

They'd thrown caution to the wind that night. Forgotten were responsibility and consequences. She and Fox had been starving for one another, and they feasted.

It was the only time they had not used protection. And Theresa knew, better than anyone else, that it only took one time.

It was still early in her pregnancy, but time couldn't pass quickly enough.

A baby! She was going to have a baby!

"I can tell from your expression that this is a surprise to you," Eve Russell commented as she leaned against the desk in her office holding the test results.

"A surprise, yes," Theresa acknowledged with a broad grin, "but a welcome one! I never thought…." Her voice trailed off. "Oh, wow!"

Eve nodded. "I'm glad you to see you happy, Theresa. I was concerned that under the circumstances…I'm sorry. I don't quite know what your situation is, and I should not be conjecturing."

Theresa rubbed her still-flat abdomen. In all truth, she didn't know what her circumstances were, either. She knew she loved Fox and that he loved her. But a baby? So early in their relationship…it was more than either of them had bargained for.

Life had definitely grown even more complicated.

Despite that, and despite the tumult of the day, Theresa was elated. This man she loved desperately had given her the most amazing gift. Together, they had created a new life. Already, in just a few moments, her heart swelled with so much love for her unborn child that she thought she would burst!

"I'm going to take better care of myself this time, Dr. Russell. I need to set up doctor's appointments, get pre-natal vitamins, go to Lamaze classes…."

Eve chuckled. "One thing at a time, Theresa. You shouldn't get ahead of yourself."

"What do you mean? Is something wrong?"

"No, no," Eve quickly reassured her. "I just don't want you to work yourself into a frenzy. Besides, the baby's father needs to know. You should have his support over the next few months. Do you think he will provide the support you need?"

Theresa didn't hesitate. "Yes. Yes, I do."

"That is certainly helpful. Given your history of having had one difficult pregnancy, I cannot stress enough how important it is that you have as much of a stress-free pregnancy as possible, no pun intended."

Theresa exhaled. Her life was anything but stress-free.

But the time had come.

All the cards would be laid out on the table.

All the dirty laundry would be aired.

The battle lines would be drawn.

And she was ready.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

"I came to see my favorite former nephew."

Ethan Winthrop fixed him gaze on the tall blonde woman who stood in the doorway of his hospital room. In her perfectly manicured hands she held a large vase containing an assortment of colorful and aromatic flowers.

"Are you up for a visitor?" she asked cheerily.

Ethan swallowed hard, knowing that under the circumstances, her cheerfulness was forced. _Quite forced_. "There's not much to see," he replied quietly.

Sheridan ventured further into the room and set the flowers on a nearby table. Closing the distance between herself and the injured man in the hospital bed, she replied, "The doctors say that you'll be as good as new. It's just a matter of time."

"Time," Ethan choked out. "Time's an odd thing."

"Why do you say that?"

"I thought I had all the time in the world. " Ethan cleared his throat. "I also thought I was different from Julian, but it seems that I'm more like the man who raised me than I thought."

"You're not making any sense."

"I suppose not."

"Ethan, what happened to you?"

"The short version is that time ran out."

"And the long version?"

"I kept the woman I truly loved and wanted in limbo. I pushed her away and pulled her back to me too many times. I punished her for my shortcomings." His blue eyes darted around his sterile hospital room. "This is my penance."

"No, it's not! This is Nicholas's fault. I could tear him apart myself for what he did to you!"

Ethan took a deep breath, then winced at the pain in his ribs.

"Do you want me to call a nurse?" Sheridan asked, concern evident in her tone.

"No. And it's not my half-brother's fault. I accept full responsibility for where I am now."

Sheridan's eyebrows shot up. "You've got to be kidding me! If you and he had not been fighting…."

"We wouldn't have been fighting if I hadn't done something truly despicable, Sheridan."

"Come on, Ethan. I've known you almost my entire life. Nothing you could have done could possibly warrant my nephew's actions. His attack on you was malicious and unprovoked."

Unable to meet her gaze, Ethan's eyes left her face. "Last night, I crossed the line with Theresa. I know this isn't a good excuse, but I had been drinking."

"What do you mean you 'crossed the line'?"

"I tried…" Ethan struggled to say the words. "I tried…. to rape her."

"Oh my God. Ethan, no! You wouldn't do something like that, even if you were drunk. I know you! You're a good man. A decent man. You could never hurt a woman like that, especially Theresa!"

"Am I such a good man, Sheridan? I played Gwen and Theresa against each other for so long, vacillating between them. I married one when I loved the other. I lied over and over but condemned those who probably lied for better reasons than I did. Am I good?"

"What I think is that you've been through a terrible ordeal. You're medicated. You only think you hurt Theresa, but you're imagining it all."

Ethan shuddered. "There are bruises on her arms and legs."

_Sheridan grabbed the glass salt dispenser. As Theresa reached for it, her shirt sleeve moved up, revealing her bruises._

"_Theresa, what's that?"_

"_What's what?"_

_Sheridan took Theresa's hand in her own and held it steady while she pointed out the bruise in the shape of fingertips._

_Theresa pulled away from her sister-in-law. "I don't want to talk about it."_

"_Did Julian do this to you?" Sheridan clenched her fists._

_Theresa shook her head vehemently. "No. Julian hasn't touched me."_

"_Who else would?"_

"_I told you I don't want to talk about it."_

"_I need to know!"_

"_Why?"_

"_Because I care about you."_

"_It's none of your concern. Leave it alone."_

_Theresa pushed the bowl aside, grabbed her purse, and stood._

"_Oh, Theresa, don't rush off," Sheridan pleaded._

"_I'm not going to have this conversation with you. You don't want to know the truth; you can't handle it, and you won't believe it."_

And then it all made sense. At lunch when Theresa had been so defensive about the bruise on her arm, Sheridan hadn't understood her reticence to speak of it. But now….now it was all too clear.

Tears filled Sheridan's eyes. "Oh Ethan."

"I didn't go through with it, but if I'm so twisted that I would try such a thing to a woman I love, what else am I capable of doing?"

"Listen to me. If you were evil, you would have taken what you wanted and not looked back. You wouldn't feel remorse or shame. You are _not_ a bad person. You just made a mistake."

"I've made too many where Theresa is concerned."

"Does Gwen know?"

"Not everything."

"What are you going to do?"

"I have to tell her."

Sheridan nervously chewed on her bottom lip. "And hope that she forgives you?"

Ethan harrumphed. "Gwen won't forgive me. And she's right not to. I've wasted her time. I used her. I made promises I couldn't keep."

"Surely you and she will be able to work things out."

"I don't _want_ to work things out. I'm tired, Sheridan. So tired of running this same race and not getting anywhere. So tried of regretting what I've done and what I've not done. So tired of everything."

"This will pass, Ethan. This _will_ pass."

Ethan closed his eyes, though he saw clearly. Dark eyes that shined. Expressive orbs bursting with emotion, with adoration….for his brother. It was hell on Earth.

The physical pain would pass. He knew that. What would not heal were the emotional wounds. Wanting what he could not have. Seeing his brother and the woman he loved start a life together in the open. Hearing everyone's whispers. Feeling everyone's stares.

Hell on Earth.

His damnation.

"No, this is only the beginning."

* * *

"Fox!"

Fox Crane spun around, the familiar voice he'd longed to hear awakening all his senses. Without thinking, he grasped her hands in his, his thumbs rubbing the palms of her hands. "Resa! I've been looking everywhere for you! Where have you been?"

Theresa squeezed his hands and then pulled away, mindful that at any moment, someone might happen upon them in the hospital hallway. "It's a long story."

"I'd love to hear it."

"And I'd love to tell it. Can we…can we leave this place? I need to be alone with you. Away from here. Away from distractions and prying eyes."

Despite the events of the day, Fox felt much of the tension leave his body. Just the nearness of this amazing woman was enough to chase the demons away. How could he deny her anything? "Your wish is my command." The corners of his mouth curled up into a smile.

Theresa's heart skipped a beat.

This was it.

In a few minutes, he would know everything.

* * *

"Oh, Sheridan, thanks so much for being here!"

Gwen greeted her lifelong friend. Though they'd had their ups and downs, particularly when Sheridan supported Ethan and Theresa's relationship, the two had since patched up many of their differences. The distance that had existed between them melted away.

Sheridan hugged Gwen. "I wouldn't be anywhere else."

"Did you just come from seeing Ethan?" Gwen queried.

"Yes. He's feeling pretty low right now."

Gwen chose her words carefully. "It's been a _trying_ day for us all."

Although Gwen tried to mask her feelings, Sheridan still caught a hint of disapproval in her tone. Sheridan bristled. "For some more than others."

"Of course."

Sheridan shook her head. "I'm sorry. Here it is—the first time I've seen you since you returned from your honeymoon—and I sound absolutely awful to you."

"Think nothing of it. I know you're just worried about Ethan. We all are."

"I've never seen him like this before, Gwen. He sounds like he's just given up."

"Well, we can thank dear ole Theresa for that one." Gwen tone sharpened considerably.

Sheridan's eyebrows flew up. "What do you mean by that?"

"Anything bad that happens with Ethan always has Theresa's name attached to it. Sheridan, she's like a plague of locusts. She just devours whomever or whatever is in her path. God only knows why Ethan keeps going back for more."

Sheridan reached for her friend's hand, stunned for the first time to see the venom and hurt in her voice. Gwen was fighting the inevitable. "God only knows why _you_ keep going back for more."

Gwen jerked her hand from Sheridan's touch. "Ethan is my husband. We have known each other all our lives. We always knew we would be married."

"Not always. There was a time when…."

Gwen interrupted. "That time is over. Everything happened the way it was supposed to happen. If I were as simplistic as Ms. Lopez-Fitzgerald or whatever it is she calls herself these days, I might credit fate."

"If it were meant to be, would you be so miserable?"

"Don't you see, Sheridan? I won. I have a husband with whom I share so many wonderful memories. I plan to go back to work as soon as Ethan is out of the hospital. Then maybe we'll try for a baby."

"Gwen, life isn't a competition. There's so much more to it than winning or having memories that belong in the past. What about the future? Do you and Ethan share the same dreams?"

Gwen crossed her arms. "Just what the hell are you trying to do?"

"I don't understand what you mean."

"You're supposed to be my friend. Why are you trying to convince me to leave my husband?"

"I didn't exactly say that…"

"But that's what you were getting at! How dare you? You're doing it to me again."

"Gwen, I…"

"No, it's true. You are doing it to me again. You're my friend so long as it is convenient or so long as the picture looks rosy for Ethan and me. But whenever you think there is a hint of trouble brewing, you automatically take his and Theresa's side."

"This has nothing to do with Theresa."

"Of course it has everything to do with her. It's always about her, Sheridan. Always." Gwen's eyes welled with angry tears. She gritted her teeth as she spoke, her words uttered with the harshness of a hiss. "Do you know how she tortures me?"

Sheridan's chin quivered as she listened to her friend.

"If I see a woman with long dark hair, I picture Theresa. If I hear the words 'fate' or 'destiny,' I think of her and her moronic starry-eyed looks. She haunts me! She is everywhere I look. She is like a cancer that must be cut out and destroyed!"

Sheridan gasped.

"Would you listen to yourself?"

"Listen to myself? All I have to keep me company are my thoughts. My….my husband…..he doesn't," Gwen's harsh tone melted away into a whisper, "w-want me. He wants _her_."

* * *

"This is it, isn't it?" Gwen stood before her husband. Her tears had dried, but the redness in her eyes and the flush in her cheeks remained.

"I'm sorry."

"You're _sorry._ Well, then. That makes everything all right."

"I know it isn't enough," Ethan replied. "Not when we've had so many years together."

"So many of them were happy. Do you remember?"

"I remember."

"Then why?" She shook her head. "This is….this is just surreal. Do you not know the agony you have put me through? If anyone should be ending the marriage, it is I! I have suffered….and suffered….and suffered. But I was patient, Ethan. So patient."

"If you want to tell others that you decided to end the marriage, I won't dispute it."

"Right. And have everyone feel sorry for you? 'Poor man. He's in the hospital and his bitch wife dumps him.' I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't."

"So is that all that matters to you? Appearances?"

"What else do I have left, Ethan, but my pride? Do I even have that? You've already torn it to shreds. I would have done anything for you. Anything at all. I _did_ do everything for you. That wasn't enough."

"I'm sorry, Gwen."

She cleared her throat. "Yes, you've said that already. How about something more original?" Her eyes narrowed. "Oh? How's this? You'll never have her, Ethan."

Ethan's blue eyes met her brown eyes. "I know."

"The beauty of the situation—if there can be any beauty—is this. You will never have what you want most. But then again, neither will Theresa. What goes around, comes around."

Ethan shuddered at the coldness in her voice.

"What are you doing?"

"Evening the score."

* * *

Fox looked around in wonderment. He'd been in and out of Harmony his entire life, but he had never been to this place. The waves from the ocean crashed against the rocky shore, casting salt water mist into the dusky sky. The scent of seawater filled his nostrils, waves breaking, gulls calling filled his ears, and the sight of the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen filled his line of vision.

_It must have been heaven_.

Theresa was oblivious to his gaze of adoration. "When I was a little girl, I used to come to this beach. Not as many people would come here. The path wasn't as easy to follow as some of the other paths. You can see it's quite empty tonight."

Theresa's fingers intertwined with Fox's. A shiver ran through her as the wind picked up and blew over the waters.

"Here, let me give you my coat."

"You don't have to, Fox."

"I know I don't. I want to. I want to always make sure you're safe and happy." Fox withdrew his hand from her long enough to remove his jacket and drape it over her shoulders. It was enormous on her, but he was convinced it was made for her.

"You've already given me so much."

Her words were cryptic. Fox waited for her to continue.

"You know, things with us are a lot like this place. Jagged rocks above water. Smooth rocks below. We started out as enemies, which is what the world sees. We became lovers. We fell _in_ love, and for now that's only ours. The world doesn't see it. It's below the surface, but it is there."

"It feels like the most _natural_ thing in the world," he replied.

"It does, doesn't it? I don't have to pretend with you. I think I was so used to living up to all these expectations that others had, I lost myself. But you saw me for who I really am. You're the only one who ever has."

"We have so much to look forward to, Resa."

He stopped and drew her toward him. His chin rested on her head, and he took in the scent of her. Her body seemed to melt into his, and he ached for her.

Theresa smiled as she thought of the life she carried inside her. "You don't know the half of it."

"Are you going to fill me in, or am I going to have to guess?" he asked teasingly.

She giggled, "It would be terribly cruel of me to keep you in suspense, wouldn't it? A little guessing game would only prolong this grievous torture…."

"You little vixen! You know that I could tickle it out of you!" He rested his hands on her sides.

"Don't you dare!"

"Then it's time to tell me why we really came out here and why you disappeared on me at the hospital."

"I went to see Dr. Russell."

"To find out more about Ethan's condition?" Fox asked.

"Oh no. This had nothing to do with Ethan, and everything to do with us. I've not been feeling well today…or for several weeks in fact. In the mornings are the worst times."

The world around him seemed to spin. Fox's heart skipped a beat. Was Theresa saying what he thought she was? He looked down at her, his eyes searching hers intently, waiting for her to finish.

"The last time I felt like this was when I was…pregnant."

"Are you saying…?"

She nodded, and a broad grin spread across her face lighting her eyes. "Dr. Russell confirmed it. Fox, I'm going to have a baby.!"

* * *

"Mr. Crane will see you now." The personal assistant spoke crisply, surveying the blonde with cool disinterest.

The blonde's heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she crossed the reception area and pushed open the heavy wooden doors to see the imposing figure of Alistair Crane behind his desk.

"Gwen, I've been expecting you for some time." His voice boomed, though he seemed affable enough. _For the moment_.

"Alistair, how did you know?"

"You forget yourself, dear. I make it my business to know all the comings and goings, major and minor scandals and liaisons, and so forth. I am only surprised it took you this long to get here."

"But now that I am here, we have a certain matter to discuss. One that I think will be of consequence."

Alistair chuckled, his laugh setting Gwen on edge.

"Of _grave_ consequence, no doubt."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

"I-I'm going to be a father?"

"Yes."

"And you're positive?" Fox asked.

"Dr. Russell ran a blood test. She's certain," Theresa replied.

"I'm going to be a father," he stated calmly. His eyes widened, and his face broke out into a broad grin as her words finally sank in. His calmness gave way to exuberance. "I'm going to be a father! A baby? We're having a baby? We're having a baby!"

Fox swept Theresa off her feet, spinning her around. She giggled at the sensation as her head swam from both the motion and the joy.

Suddenly realizing her more delicate state, Fox gently set her feet on the ground, though he steadied her from the dizzying motion. Her eyes sought his, and relief washed over her as she saw the love and joy she felt reflected in those eyes.

A stray tear trickled down her cheek. "I had hoped you would be happy. I know this must come as an enormous shock."

"Sshhhh," he whispered as he gently touched his lips to her cheek, kissing away the tear. Tenderly he moved his right hand over her still-flat abdomen. She placed her hand over his. "How could I possibly be anything but happy? I love you, Theresa. So much! I would die for you. For you—and for our son or daughter."

A chill ran up and down Theresa's spine. "Don't talk about dying, Fox. Let's talk about living. We have so much living ahead of us!"

"How long will we have to wait for the baby?"

"It's still early. About seven months."

He groaned. "That's such a long time, and I've never been a patient man."

"You know what they say? Good things come…."

"…To those who wait," he finished. "I always hated that cliché. Mother used to make mention of it promptly whenever she would buy something for my brother and deny me whatever I wanted."

Theresa reached out and ran her slender fingers through his blonde hair. "This is our chance, Fox. The possibilities are endless. We can be good parents to this baby."

Fox nodded. "This child will _not_ have the type of childhood I did, Theresa. I am going to smother him or her with love and attention and teddy bears and …."

She laughed.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"You. You make me so happy."

His mouth descended upon hers. She was so warm and tasted so sweet as his tongue swept into her mouth. Her tongue rubbed against his own, stirring urges within them both.

He pulled away from the kiss, resting his forehead against hers. "You drive me insane with your kisses."

"The feeling's mutual." She looked out at the ocean, though she still clung to him. "What a couple of days this has been. Everything has changed. The world looks more vivid to me now. I feel so alive."

Fox chuckled. "And we're about to turn the world on its ear."

"I do suppose when everyone finds out, it's going to create quite a scandal. Of course, neither of us is a stranger to scandals."

"The black sheep—and for a time--the supposed black widow." Fox squinted. "You know, the police never did find out who tried to kill my father."

"That's not the only secret lurking in the Crane Mansion," Theresa replied. "Fox, you and I know that the wedding between Julian and me in Bermuda was nothing more than a farce concocted by Bruce, but no one else does. I'd like to keep it that way…for just a few more days."

"Why?"

"Theresa Crane can pull more strings than Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald."

"What are you up to?"

"Justice. Vindication. Fox, I have to restore my reputation for the sake of both of us and our baby."

"Theresa, who the hell cares what my family or the public think? This is our life—not theirs."

Theresa swallowed hard. "I do."

"Theresa…"

"No, I know it's silly. And I also know that it's hard for you to understand, but I didn't grow up with as many privileges as you did. The one thing my mother told me that I had, which was far more valuable than riches, was my reputation and my integrity. I want to be able to look in the mirror and truly like what I see. I want my son or daughter to have a mother that he or she can be proud of, not one that people will point to and talk about."

"Damn." Fox shook his head and laughed despite himself. "Will you ever let me win an argument?"

"Perhaps from time to time. After all, I can't have you getting discouraged," she teased back.

"From all this talk, I'm assuming you have a plan."

With a twinkle in her eye, Theresa replied, "Don't I always?"

* * *

When Jimmy Stafford first started working as a security guard at the fish cannery twelve years ago, the stench of fish parts had been overwhelming. At night when he went home, even after he showered, he could still smell fish. It was everywhere. In his clothes. In his hair. In his very skin.

And then it seemed to fade. After all that time spent on the job, he barely smelled the fish anymore. He did, however, notice that he seemed rather popular with the neighborhood cats.

His appeal to his wife did not improve, however. She'd left him two years ago and was shacking up with some damn clothing store clerk. Some damn pretty boy with his fancy leather penny loafers.

Jimmy's diligent work paid off, though. That, and his acute sense of hearing, which Alistair Crane seemed to find quite beneficial from time to time.

He was promoted several times, resulting in ultimately being named the head of security at the cannery. It wasn't a particularly demanding job. After all, how many security breaches, other than the night Julian Crane was shot, did the cannery have?

No, it was an easy job. Jimmy watched over the cannery during the day from his enclosed security booth. It really was state-of-the-art. Monitors showed him in real-time all the goings-on, and security cameras filmed the events for posterity.

At night, when no one was present, the cameras kept watch.

And so he took one last look at the settings before he reached behind him to get his coat.

"Mr. Stafford?"

Jimmy looked up at the petite dark haired woman who stood before him. Her features were striking; he would know her anywhere.

"Mrs, Crane! I-I wasn't expecting to see you this evening."

Theresa smiled reassuringly. "I wasn't exactly planning on being here this evening, but I had to come."

"H-here?"

"Oh, yes. You see, Mr. Stafford, I am in _desperate_ need of help, and you're the only one who can give me what I need."

The man felt himself relaxing. "Please, call me Jimmy."

"Jimmy. That's such a nice name. It suits you. I have to confess something. I know you're about to leave for the day, but do you have a few minutes?"

"For you? Of course, Mrs. Crane."

"Oh, thank you. You see, it's been over a year since my husband, Julian Crane, was violently attacked in this cannery."

"Didn't you take the blame for it, Mrs. Crane?"

Theresa smiled ruefully, her thick eyelashes dropping subtly as she licked her lips. "Yes. Foolishly, I did. I was trying to protect someone I believed to be guilty. But in doing so, I may have let the person who truly committed the crime get away. I am so terribly concerned for my husband's safety. Just knowing that this mad person is out there still…it…well, it makes it difficult to sleep at night."

"How can I make you sleep better, Mrs. Crane?"

"You can give me information. On the night my husband was attacked, December 31, 2001, were the security cameras surveying the cannery?"

"Yes, just as they do each night."

"Do you still have the surveillance video?"

"Not here. It's archived at the Crane Industries headquarters."

"Oh," Theresa replied, crestfallen.

Jimmy watched her mournful expression. Quickly, he added, "I don't know this for sure, so you didn't hear it from me, but I've heard that only Alistair or Julian Crane themselves have access to the archives. But maybe you can get your husband to let you in. I know that if you were my wife, you'd have me wrapped around your little finger, if you don't mind me saying so."

Like hell Julian would let her into the archive. He hated her, and the feeling was mutual.

He certainly was not going to help her clear her name.

There had to be some way to gain access to the video. Some way….

Theresa did work at Crane Industries. Perhaps she could….

Then she paused and smiled. Of course. _Of course_.

Maybe she _could_ wrap Julian around her little finger without him realizing it.

Oh, yes. She knew _exactly_ what to do.

* * *

Julian Crane poured himself brandy, his second drink in less than fifteen minutes. It was becoming his habit more and more as of late. Come home from work, amble to the living room, and imbibe the dark liquid. Somehow, everything became more bearable.

His father was very displeased with him. What else was new?

At times he considered his excursion into "death" to be one of the highlights of his life. It was the first and only time he'd managed to escape from the glaring magnifying glass under which his father perpetually held him.

"_Put the drink down, Julian,"_ Alistair Crane's voice boomed over the loud speaker. _"You cannot afford to lose any more brain cells."_

Obediently, Julian set the brandy on the table.

"What do you want me to say, Father? Ethan himself acknowledges that what happened was an accident. I did manage to keep the news of the scuffle out of the newspapers."

"_But do you know what was going on behind the scenes? Or were you too busy chasing another skirt?"_

"Father, I don't know what you mean. It was an accident. Case closed."

"_I underestimated you, Julian."_

Julian straightened somewhat, stunned to be on the receiving end of a compliment. "Thank you, Father."

"_I didn't mean it as a compliment! I underestimated just how pathetic and useless you truly are!"_ The speaker clicked, indicating the end of the conversation.

"Well, that went well," Julian commented wryly as he once again picked up his glass.

"Business as usual, Julian?" Theresa asked as she walked into the living room.

"Well, if it isn't my little temptress herself. Look but don't touch. Isn't that your motto?" he asked.

"That's certainly my motto where you're concerned," Theresa replied. "Have you seen my mother? I heard she was down here."

"I'm most decidedly _not_ Pee-lar's social secretary," Julian sniffed.

"Of course not. Your life is far too busy. What, with your pastime of swimming with the fishes, so to speak?"

Julian's nose wrinkled as he remembered the stench at the cannery the night he was pursued by his would-be killer. "Don't remind me."

"It must be terrible knowing that the person who wanted you dead is still out there somewhere. Watching. Waiting."

"For all I know, I'm looking right at her."

Theresa smiled. "Oh, surely you know better than that, Julian. It really is too bad that person will never be punished. I always thought you to be more cunning than that."

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, obviously my mother is not in here. Goodnight, Julian, and I hope you'll sleep well….if you can."

Theresa strolled out of the room and walked into the foyer, pausing outside the door of the living room out Julian's sight.

"Theresa does have a point," Julian uttered. "But how do I find out?"

_The tapes, Julian_, Theresa thought.

"The police have all but filed this case away. Unsolved. Inefficient oafs."

_Come on. The tapes, Julian,_ Theresa thought.

Julian scratched his chin. "Then again, there were a number of people who threatened me with bodily harm. How to determine, which, if any was the culprit…."

_Think, Julian! Think! The tapes!_

"The security tapes! Yes, that's it. Something must have been caught on one of those."

_Ding, ding. Bingo. Thank God people in this town have a habit of talking to themselves!_

Theresa rubbed her hand across her tummy. _Mama's going to make you so proud, little one._

Feeling pleased, Theresa continued on her way.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

"Good morning, Mrs. Crane," Karen, Theresa's personal assistant said with a warm smile. She sat behind her reception desk, a sprite of woman, petite with delicate features.

"Good morning, Karen. It's a lovely day, isn't it?" Theresa asked as she cast her eyes out the office reception area windows.

Karen, too, looked toward the rather large windows that stretched nearly from floor to ceiling, but saw none of the loveliness her boss mentioned. It was actually rather overcast, drizzly. However, through her years of working at Crane Industries, she also knew that it was inadvisable to argue with her boss—particularly if that boss was a Crane.

"Yes, Mrs. Crane," Karen replied agreeably.

Theresa clasped her hands together and laughed. "I know what you're thinking. Loveliness is in the eye of the beholder, but I can tell that this day…this day is going to be special."

"Something certainly has you in a good mood, if you don't mind me saying so, Mrs. Crane." Karen had been Theresa Crane's personal assistant for nearly a year, and during that time, it was rare for the young executive to smile, let alone laugh.

Unconsciously, Theresa's hands moved to her abdomen. Indeed, something did have her in an upbeat mood—the knowledge of the new life growing inside her.

A baby.

A baby she created with Fox.

Life was good. For so long, she'd not been able to hear those words from another person's mouth without wanting to roll her eyes. Yet those words filled her mind now.

And life was going to get even better.

"You're right, Karen. Something does, and I can't help but want to share the good mood, so to speak." Theresa walked to Karen's desk and leaned against it. "Karen, how long have you worked at Crane Industries?"

Karen pursed her lips together as she counted back in her mind. "Ever since I graduated high school. About thirteen years."

"Did you always want to work in office management?" Theresa asked.

Karen hesitated. Her dream was not to work as a secretary, but did she dare say that to the boss?

"It seemed like a good thing to do…to try to save up money for college."

"But you never went," Theresa said pointedly.

How could she go when the Cranes owned so many of the businesses in town and the pay wasn't great? A girl had to live. After living expenses, what was left to pay for school? She doubted Theresa Crane had any concept what it was like to struggle with making a living and trying to get ahead. Her job, after all, was the direct result of nepotism, not hard work.

"Neither did you." The word's tumbled out before Karen could stop them. Her pale cheeks grew rosy. "That didn't come out right, Mrs. Crane."

Theresa shrugged. "But it's true. And here I am, a V.P. in Crane Industries when by all rights, I should be working at the Book Café with the amount of formal education I've had."

Where was Mrs. Crane going with this? Karen fidgeted nervously.

"I've been fortunate, Karen. Never thought I'd say it, but I have been."

"Yes, Mrs. Crane."

"Karen, I hate to do this, but you leave me no choice. You're fired as my personal assistant."

Karen's eyes grew wide and her hands grew clammy. "What? I-I don't understand. I thought you were satisfied with my job performance."

"I have been satisfied. More than satisfied, actually."

"Then why? Is it because of what I said? Because if it is, Mrs. Crane, I am profusely sorry. I never meant any disrespect."

Theresa raised her hand, an indication for Karen to be quiet. "This isn't where you want to be, is it?" Theresa withdrew a folded envelope from her jacket pocket.

Karen hung her head. Crane Industries wasn't particularly her greatest ambition. What she wanted more than anything was to work with children, perhaps teaching school.

"This will help you get where you want to go," Theresa added as she pressed the envelope in her former employee's hand.

Karen slowly opened the envelope, still too stunned to process everything that was happening.

The surprises kept coming. Within the envelope was a scholarship check for seventy-five thousand dollars.

"Mrs. Crane, this can't be right."

"It's the least Crane Industries can do for your years of valuable service," Theresa replied nonchalantly.

"College tuition," Karen whispered as tears filled her eyes. "Four years' worth. A-and living expenses."

Theresa nodded.

"I-I don't know how I can ever thank you, Mrs. Crane. No one has ever done anything like this for me. Ever! Thank you so much for firing me!"

Theresa rubbed her hands together and said with a wink, "It's a dirty job, but somebody's got to do it."

Spontaneously, Karen threw her arms around Theresa. "If there's ever anything I can do for you, you just let me know."

Theresa patted her back. "Same goes here."

Karen pulled away and laughed. "My mom is never going to believe this!"

"She won't be the only one," Theresa replied as she thought of Julian's reaction to her generosity with the Crane money. His reaction would be just delicious…and it would play right into her plans.

"Well, I'll be happy to stay and finish out the day, Mrs. Crane. It's the least I can do."

Theresa shook her head. "Why don't you go and enjoy the day? I'll just have my calls routed through my husband's office."

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Karen asked wistfully.

"Very sure. Best of luck to you, Karen."

"Thank you, Mrs. Crane. Thank you!"

Theresa smiled and walked into her office.

* * *

Pilar Lopez-Fitzgerald tried to force herself to smile as she stood outside Ethan Winthrop's hospital room, but no amount of fortitude could make the smile remain on her face.

What was there to smile about?

Ethan had been through a terrible ordeal.

Her Theresa was practically throwing her life away on Fox Crane, of all people.

To make matters worse, Pilar suspected that Theresa was pregnant. No, her daughter had not confided any such situation to her, but Pilar was all but certain.

_How much more can my family endure?_ Pilar raised the silent question to the heavens.

Pilar reached for the door handle of Ethan's private room but hesitated. Over the last few days, she had heard several accounts of Ethan's accident—and the causes behind it. None of it made any sense.

To hear Ivy talk, Fox pushed Ethan into the fire in a jealous rage.

It was a charge that Fox vehemently denied. He maintained that the injuries Ethan sustained were an accident.

Yet there was more to the goings-on.

Pilar thought back to Theresa's outburst that she'd been carrying on an affair with Fox, while the rest of the world believed them to be enemies.

"There's always more below the surface," Pilar muttered.

"Pilar!" the sound of a motorized wheelchair accompanied the cultured voice.

Pilar greeted the blonde woman who approached her with simplicity. "Ivy."

Their relationship had been ever-changing in the years they knew each other. They went from employer/employee to confider/confidant to sometimes adversaries. Both women loved their children desperately—perhaps the one trait they shared. Yet how they showed their love varied.

"I was hoping I would run into you."

"You were?" Pilar was puzzled.

"Yes. Sitting here over the last several days since the terrible…." Ivy could not say the word accident, though both her sons claimed it was, "_incident_, I've had a rather hefty amount of time to consider events in my life."

Pilar swallowed hard. She was not sure she could patiently suffer through another of Ivy's pity parties.

"I kept wondering how things could possibly go so wrong."

Perhaps they were not so unalike, Pilar thought. Yet she had her own problems—real problems—while Ivy's were mostly of her own making.

"Ivy, I really don't…"

Ivy shook her head. "I've not been a good friend to you, Pilar. But I'm hoping that I can change that. That _we_ can change that."

Pilar looked into Ivy's crystal blue eyes. The other woman's expression seemed so sincere, but experience left a nagging doubt in Pilar's mind.

"I do miss the closeness we once had, Ivy, but …."

"No buts. This can be a new beginning."

"It cannot be a new beginning so long as you seek vengeance on my daughter, Ivy."

Ivy's eyes narrowed, her expression turning from one of seeming sincerity to one of great harshness. "Your daughter has brought every misery she's experienced upon herself!"

"You used to think more highly of her."

"That was before I knew the real her," Ivy replied. "Oh, Pilar, if we're to be friends, we're going to have to agree to disagree about Theresa."

"So long as I know that you plot to hurt her, we cannot be friends, Ivy."

"I don't know why you're so worried about Theresa, Pilar. For God sakes, the girl survived the death chamber! She's like a nauseating cockroach. The world could undergo nuclear fallout, and she and all the cockroaches would survive. But everything she touches gets destroyed, gets tainted."

"Only because she's been made desperate. All she ever wanted was to love Ethan."

"Oh, yes, which explains why she scanned my personal, private letter to Sam into her computer and e-mailed it to the tabloids. She had Ethan's best interests at heart on that one," Ivy replied sarcastically.

While Pilar agreed that scanning the private letter into her laptop was not the most prudent thing her daughter ever did, she never once believed the hasty action was done with malicious intent. "Theresa did not e-mail that letter to the tabloid. She cared about Ethan too much to hurt him in that way, and she cared about you, too."

Ivy scoffed. "She had a funny way of showing it, and she's had a funny way of showing it ever since."

"I do not want to stand here and argue with you, Ivy. I came to see Ethan."

"I don't want to argue with you either, but could you please try not to think so harshly of me, Pilar? You used to think more highly of me."

Pilar's dark eyes looked sadly upon the woman who had been such an enormous force in her life. Her words were measured, clear. "That was before I knew the real you."

Ivy started to open her mouth to speak, but clamped it shut, uncertain how to respond to her own words being used against her. Pilar took one last look at her former friend before garnering the courage to open the door to Ethan's hospital room.

Ethan's face brightened when he saw Pilar in the doorway. "I thought that was you in the hallway. Were you talking with my mother?"

"Yes, your mother and I had words."

"You had words?" Ethan asked with concern.

Pilar covered, not wanting to delve into the conflicts she and Ivy had. "I meant, yes, we spoke. You're looking better, Ethan. The bruises are healing nicely."

Ethan shrugged. "The doctor says my nose will be a little crooked, but I guess my face will just have character."

"Do you know when you'll be released?"

"It could be as early as tonight."

"That's wonderful," Pilar smiled. "I know this hasn't been the best few days of your life."

Ethan sighed. "I'm definitely looking forward to getting out of here. But to what—I don't know. Everything has changed."

"Surely Gwen is eager to have you home."

"Gwen." Ethan shook his head. "At this point, Gwen wants nothing to do with me. We never should have married in the first place. I should have followed my heart and married Theresa when I had the chance."

Pilar did not voice it, but she, too, wished Ethan would have married Theresa. Then her daughter would be away from Julian and the corrupting influence of the Cranes, never would have fallen in love with Fox, and both Ethan and Theresa would be happy.

"There is no chance of reconciliation with Gwen?"

Ethan thought back to the last conversation he had with his wife. He remembered the bitterness in her voice. "She deserves someone who can give her what she needs. I'm not that man."

"Do you plan to pursue my daughter?"

Ethan was taken aback by Pilar's direct question. "Wow. I guess I wasn't expecting you to ask that. I know how you feel about divorce."

Pilar pulled a chair closer to Ethan's bedside and sat next to him. She looked down at her hands, fidgeting slightly with a hangnail. "I feel even more strongly about the Cranes. I look at," Pilar hesitated, "I look at your mother, and I remember how she used to be. Much like my Theresita. Full of love, full of dreams. Your mother was changed by living as a Crane. I do not want the same for my daughter."

"Fox has already seen to…." Ethan started, but stopped. "I'm sorry. I should not have said anything."

Pilar's eyes widened. "You know about Theresa and Fox?"

Ethan's stomach twisted. Were they together right then and there? Were they planning a future?

A future? How insane was that? Theresa was probably was counting on a future, but Fox? Ethan knew his half-brother all too well. How long would it take before Fox ran out on Theresa? What kind of damage would he do in the meantime?

"I know," Ethan replied simply.

Pilar breathed deeply, silently asking God's forgiveness in interfering with her daughter's life. "Ethan, normally I do not condone meddling in relationships, but I would not oppose you if you were to pursue Theresa."

"Theresa has made it clear that she wants nothing to do with me."

The words, etched in truth and pain, were difficult to form.

"That's only because she resigned herself to life without you. But now things are so different, Ethan. If you were to go to her, I am certain you could talk some sense into her."

Ethan looked away from Pilar.

_Theresa_.

Could he ever regain her trust? Did he even have the right to try after everything he put her through?

"Anything worth having is worth fighting for, Ethan."

"You sound like _her_."

"Well, she is my daughter." Pilar took a deep breath. "I want what's best for her. Fox isn't that person."

Ethan closed his eyes. Could it happen? Could he make up for the mistakes of the past?

_Anything worth having is worth fighting for_.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, the door to Theresa's office swung open. She looked up expecting to see a raging Julian but found herself pleasantly surprised.

"Ever heard of knocking?" she asked with a wink.

Fox stood in the doorway, his lips broadening into a grin. "Ouch, Step-mommy. Standing on formalities? I'm hurt!"

Theresa stood from her seat, walked around to the front of her large, mahogany desk, and leaned against it. "Not formalities. Just good manners," she replied crisply. "Of course, considering your parents, it's not hard for me to believe that you might be lacking in that department."

"Fortunately my charm makes up for the lack of 'good manners,' as you put it," Fox retorted as he closed the door behind him. He bridged the distance between them and circled his arms around her waist.

Theresa's heart skipped a beat as she looked up at him. His lips brushed against hers, a kiss so light that it served only as a teaser. "Uh, huh, and where does modesty fit in there?"

He chuckled as he rested his left hand on her still-flat abdomen. "That, my little mama-to-be, falls into the category of things my parents neglected to teach me."

She lightly grazed her fingernails over the back of his hand. "We're going to have to make sure this little one learns that lesson."

Fox shrugged, a look of exaggerated doubt crossing his features. "I don't know, Theresa. I have a feeling that this is going to be the most amazing, most beautiful, most crafty kid that the world has ever seen. Modesty _might_ be a tall order."

Theresa's heart swelled with love. "Already a proud papa."

"You could say that. It's funny, though. I never imagined myself in this role, but now that I am…."

"The part of proud papa is now being played by Nicholas Foxworth Crane," Theresa replied in her best imitation of broadcast announcer.

"The part of proud papa and man totally, completely, head-over-heels in love is now being played by Nicholas Foxworth Crane," he amended. "I do love you, Resa."

Theresa pointed at herself before speaking, "And _I_," her hand moved and rested over his heart, "love _you_."

"We've come a long way."

"We certainly have," Theresa conceded. "I used to find our bantering an interesting distraction, but I thought you were positively insufferable. Then I looked beneath the surface and found a complex, interesting, and giving man."

"You're the only one who's ever bothered to take a closer look."

"Then the rest of the world doesn't know what it's missing."

"Oh, is that right?"

"Sure is."

"How's a guy supposed to be modest with you around?"

"Practice, practice, practice." With her forefinger, she pronouncedly tapped his chest with each word for effect.

"I've always been an instant gratification kind of guy."

She raised an eyebrow and smiled. "I know."

"So how are you this morning? I didn't get to see you before you left for work."

"Wonderful! I am so excited about this baby, Fox. Today when I got here, I was just giddy."

"Giddy? I thought maybe you'd have a touch of morning sickness. I didn't want you to go through it alone. But giddy?"

She giggled. "You are so sweet, but yes, giddy! So excited. The world just seems so alive to me now, you know? Just like anything is possible."

"So did I intrude upon your giddiness?"

"I wouldn't exactly say that," she replied. "Mostly just boring paperwork that Karen could've handled for me."

"Speaking of Karen, what's the deal? When I was coming down the hallway, I saw her leaving, and she was loaded down with a couple of boxes."

"Oh, simple. I fired her," Theresa replied nonchalantly.

Fox's brows furrowed. "What? She certainly didn't look like a woman who had just been fired. She looked more like someone who'd just—oh I don't know—won the lottery. And you—you sound like firing someone is an everyday occurrence."

"Just doing my good deed for the day. I heard her talking a while back about how she wished she could go back to school. I knew that if she didn't have proper motivation, she'd never leave this job. So….."

"You provided the motivation," Fox finished.

"Yeah. In the form of a scholarship from Crane Industries. She did a good job, but this wasn't what she wanted to be doing."

"Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald Crane, you are something else."

"I might as well use my last few days as Julian's pseudo wife for some good purposes. Plus, it is going to tick off your father."

Fox grimaced. Knowing how tightly Julian Crane tried to control the finances at CI, Fox knew without a doubt that his father was going to hit the twenty story building's roof. After all, Julian Crane was answerable to his father, Alistair, and Alistair Crane was hardly a forgiving or understanding man. Fox felt a twinge of regret for the tongue lashing he knew his father was to receive.

"Come on. Julian's not _all_ bad."

"Fox, I know he's your father, but he's not all good, either. He played possum long enough to let me go to the death chamber for his murder—a murder that never even happened. That's not something that I can forget."

Fox shuddered. To think that Theresa had come so close to dying! How different his life would have been.

God, there were so many what ifs.

"You're right. It's just that despite my rather dubious upbringing, he is my father. Hell, I even want to think the best of him knowing full well that his best if the equivalent of a lot of other men's worst. I was my father's son for much of my life, following in his footsteps, Theresa."

"Parents are….well, they have a power over us that is hard to overcome. I didn't follow in my mother's footsteps, much to her consternation."

"But you've never doubted her love for you," Fox interjected.

"No, never."

"I wish I could say the same."

Theresa's heart went out to Fox. While her family struggled financially, particularly after her father left, she always felt supported emotionally. The Crane's idea of emotional support was equivalent to pushing their 'loved' ones from an airplane without a parachute.

"Perhaps your soon-to-be-ex-step-mommy can give you some affection," she replied playfully hoping to lift the heaviness of the conversation. "Let me teach you what it's like to be truly loved."

Fox leaned forward and gently nibbled at her earlobe before whispering hoarsely. "You can teach me anything, anytime. I even have a suggestion," he replied pulling away slightly so he could meet her gaze.

Theresa licked her lips as she stared into his intensely dark eyes. "Suggestions are welcome."

"For starters, you could teach me about furniture."

Theresa was taken aback. Fox surprised her; he was full of surprises. "Furniture?"

"Yes, furniture. Just how hard is this desk on a person's back?"

Theresa ran her fingers along the top of the desk as though considering his questions. "Well, my assertion is that it would depend."

"On?"

"Whether you're on the top or the bottom."

Fox reached for the pins that held her hair fashioned in a bun. One by one, he removed them until her hair fell at her shoulders and down her back. He leaned closer and inhaled the scent of her hair. His fingers toyed with the glossy locks.

He loved to touch her hair. It reminded him of the many nights he had held her in the afterglow of lovemaking. She would rest her head on his chest, her thick, silky hair falling about her and touching his skin.

Fox murmured huskily, "Excellent answer. I'm learning so much already. Perhaps you can answer another question."

Theresa's heart pounded from his nearness, from the knowledge of where this conversation was leading, and from anticipation of where she wanted to go with Fox.

_Over the edge._

"I'll do my best," she managed to say.

"How much weight can a desk like this support?"

She tried to sound casual. "Oh, it's very sturdy, built from the finest mahogany through-and-through. It's a spacious desk, too, with plenty of room for whatever needs might _arise_."

Fox rested his hands on Theresa's knees. "I'm so glad you're feeling well," he said with a wink. His hands began to move up her legs, rubbing her thighs sensuously.

Theresa's breathing was becoming shallower. "Me too. In fact, I'm feeling more than well. I'm feeling…"

"Giddy?"

"Not giddy. Very, very arou—"

"Theresa, what the hell is going on?"

Theresa and Fox turned. He moved away from her slightly at the arrival of their unwelcome visitor. They had been so engrossed in one another, they'd not heard the office door open.

Theresa's brown eyes widened, her cheeks grew rosy, and her mouth felt dry.

Julian Crane slammed the door shut behind him. "I asked you a question. What the hell is going on?"


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

"J-julian," Theresa stammered.

Julian coolly surveyed the sight in front of him. His nubile wife standing in close proximity to his son.

Strange.

They had been plotting together quite regularly it seemed.

No matter. He would deal with that problem later. First things first.

"Don't just stand there with the deer in the headlights look, I want answers, and I want them now!"

"Father, let me explain this," Fox interjected.

"What do _you_ have to do with this? Don't tell me you were in on it. Good God. A man can't even trust his own son anymore with the family's finances."

Fox and Theresa exchanged a glance. _Finances?_

Relief swept over Theresa. Julian had not seen what was about to happen between her and Fox. Or if he saw, he didn't recognize it for what it was.

Yes, the truth would come out soon enough, but Theresa had not wanted it to be like this. She wanted to control the place and time.

Theresa found her backbone. "Oh, cut the melodrama. Julian. Fox had nothing to do with this, and even if he did, I don't think you're in _any_ position to arrange tickets for a guilt trip."

"I see your tongue is as acidic as ever," Julian commented.

"And I see your bark is more like a whimper."

"You had no business giving your secretary seventy-five thousand dollars." He cringed as he spoke. "And then for you to fire her and route your calls through my office….it's _unconscionable_."

"It was my business, Julian. See, I happen to know for a fact that Crane Industries sets aside scholarship money each year as what is supposed to serve as a tax break parading as a philanthropic venture. I also know that in past years you've been responsible for 'overseeing' the scholarship fund. Furthermore, I know that whatever monies are not distributed by the end of the year go into a discretionary fund with your name on it."

Fox raised an eyebrow. So it wasn't as he originally thought. Theresa wasn't setting Julian up to get in trouble with Grandfather. No. That wasn't it at all.

Was she setting up _blackmail_?

_You are good, Resa. You are so good_.

"Well, you're just a wealth of information, aren't you, oh thorn in my side?"

Theresa smiled sweetly. "More than you can imagine, my least favorite mistake."

Fox stuck his hands in his pockets and spoke casually. "Not that this isn't entertaining, but what do you expect, Father? It is a scholarship fund. That is what the money is for, right?"

Theresa narrowed her eyes. "I think Julian had it earmarked for the Julian Crane Relief Fund. He's just upset that his fund for all manner of subversive activities has been tapped into. No more whores for your father paid by Crane Industries."

Julian clenched his teeth as he looked at his son. "What is it with you? You can't actually agree with what your step-mommy dearest is doing."

"Look, I just call it like I see it. Besides, embezzling isn't exactly encouraged by Grandfather."

Theresa clasped her hands. "Fox, would you mind pouring your father a stiff drink? He's going to need it."

Julian rolled his eyes. "I'm living in Hell."

"Welcome to the Hell you created for us, Julian."

"Too bad you couldn't have stayed dead, Theresa."

"Too bad you couldn't have, either, Julian."

"I can just feel the love in this room," Fox commented wryly.

"Yes, it feels very much like indigestion," Julian replied. His brown eyes fixed upon his wife. "What could you possibly hope to gain by infuriating me?"

"Other than the pleasure of seeing you squirm?"

"Must be the only pleasure you get in your life. You're so frigid; all you have left to keep you warm is your irritating habit of trying to ruin mine." Julian looked to his son. "That's a skill she must have learned from your mother."

"Actually, there is something I want, Julian. It's a terrible shame I had to resort to these measures, but you just haven't moved fast enough for me."

"Here it comes," Julian said rolling his eyes.

"There is a certain security tape that is of interest to me."

"You mean the cannery tape."

"Bingo. I want it, and you're going to get it for me."

"And why would I do something like that? My would-be killer has already paid for her crimes."

"You and I both know that I didn't shoot you. If I had, you would be dead now."

"Ouch," Fox said.

"It's true. If I were the one who pulled the trigger, I would have free reign to do whatever I pleased. See, I've already been tried for the crime of your murder."

"Double jeopardy," Fox provided.

"The legal system wouldn't be able to touch me because I can't be tried twice for the same crime. So you really are lucky that I'm not the one who tried to kill you. I do have a few ideas about who set me up to confess, though."

Julian smiled. He found his accidental bride alluring. Strange how she could make him turn on a dime. Too bad she would revert to her frigid self. Oh, the fun they could have if only she would let him thaw her….

"Meow, Theresa. You're out for blood, aren't you?"

"Just be glad it isn't yours. Now, are you going to help me, or do I need to let your father know exactly what kinds of _activities_ the scholarship funds have been supporting?"

* * *

Years of fast living and hard drinking had left indelible marks on his middle-aged face and indelible marks in his checkbook, as evidenced by the hefty alimony check he paid his ex-wife each month, but Bruce Warner never doubted his ability to attract the opposite sex.

Challenges were welcome, indeed. The harder the challenge, the more resplendent the rewards. And as he looked toward the entrance to the dining room at the country club from where he sat at the bar, he knew the greatest of all challenges awaited him.

Did he dare?

He shrugged. Why the hell not? After all, there was no love lost between her and Julian. Even if Julian was one of his oldest friends….what was a little sharing between friends?

Grabbing the glass of wine he was working on, Bruce walked to where the blonde woman spoke with the maitre'd.

"The lady will be joining me for dinner tonight, Pierre." Bruce's voice was gravelly but confident.

"Why, Bruce, it's been so long. You really should consult my social secretary, though. I already have dinner plans."

"Dinner for one, Ms. Winthrop?" Pierre asked.

"That's Mrs. Crane," Ivy corrected, her tone becoming sharp.

Bruce chuckled. "Yes, I can tell you have an extraordinarily busy social schedule tonight. Mrs. Crane will be dining with me."

Ivy was taken aback. She really shouldn't let Bruce have the satisfaction, but there was something about his confidence. It was as though he knew something that she didn't, and she wanted that knowledge.

"Very well, Pierre. I _will_ be joining Mr. Warner."

"I'm glad you were able to see things my way. I always have prided myself on being a persuasive man."

Ivy and Bruce followed the maitre'd to a table specially prepared to accommodate Ivy's wheelchair. Nevertheless, she bumped the table slightly with the arm of the motorized chair. "Such an inconvenience," she muttered.

Bruce settled into a padded armchair next to her and picked up one of the menus the maitre'd left for them.

"The years truly have been kind to you, Ivy. I hope you don't mind me saying so."

"Yes, well, they would be kinder if I weren't in this blasted chair," she replied.

"How exactly did you come to need it?"

Ivy shuddered slightly at the memory of that terrible night. Climbing up after Sam in the lighthouse tower, being struck by lightning, and falling for what seemed like an eternity. "I'd really rather not talk about it. Sufficed to say that I am optimistic that with continued physical therapy, eventually I will no longer need this as a mode of transportation."

"And how is Ethan?" Bruce asked. He had heard about the peculiar accident the young lawyer encountered.

"He is improving, thank God. Certainly no thanks to Theresa."

"Oh, yes. Julian's bride."

"I should be very angry with you for that one, Bruce. How could you help Julian marry that girl? She's a parasite."

"What? You thought Julian deserved better?"

"No, that's not it. I just hate seeing her day in and day out playing mistress of the manor. She's so smug." Ivy thought back to the night of the party a week ago. "Well, usually smug." Theresa had hardly seemed self-assured as she danced with Bruce, Ivy remembered. In fact, she seemed to go through a meltdown. Ivy was embarrassed for her rival. If not for Ethan's accident, Theresa's horrific display would have been the talk of the social circle for weeks.

"What went on with you two at the party the other night anyway?"

Bruce shrugged. "We talked."

Ivy leaned forward. "About what?"

"Why the sudden interest, Ivy? Digging for dirt?"

"And mess up these nails? Don't be ridiculous. Just call it a morbid fascination."

"Morbid, indeed."

"Good evening. My name is Shaun. Are you ready to order?"

Ivy looked down at the menu that went untouched. "I've been so entranced with this conversation, I've not even looked at the menu. Perhaps you could get some drinks for us and give us more time to consider our options?"

"Certainly. What can I get for you Mrs. Crane?"

"I would love a club soda with just a twist of lemon." Ivy looked to Bruce who began to speak, but Ivy reached out and touched his arm. "Please. Allow me. My companion would like a Scotch."

"Make that a double," Bruce amended.

"I'll be right back with your drinks," the younger waiter replied.

Bruce took Ivy's hand in his and smiled ruefully. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to ply me with alcohol to loosen my lips."

Ivy smiled back. "A lady would never resort to such measures.'

"That's too bad."

"You certainly are full of surprises."

"You don't know the half of it."

"Then tell me. What secret do you and Theresa share?"

"What's in it for me?"

"Other than my eternal gratitude?" Ivy asked.

"Gratitude can't keep a man warm at night. Julian says you can't either—that you're icy—but I always suspected him to be mistaken about that. Care to prove him wrong?"

If Ivy already had her club soda, Bruce would've been wearing it. As it was, she had nothing to demonstrate her indignation other than a sour expression.

Ivy raised her chin. "Selling herself to the highest bidder is Theresa's forte. Not mine."

"Really? And here I thought that your greatest complaint over your marriage with Julian was that you were sold as a pound of flesh. That it was an arrangement…"

"Why are you baiting me?"

"Why are you biting? It _is_ worth it to you to know what I do about Theresa, isn't it?"

Ivy bit her bottom lip. She desperately wanted to know, but even desperation called for a line to be drawn _somewhere_.

"You're right, Bruce. I do want to know, but not at that price."

"Such a shame. We could've had fun, Ivy," Bruce replied mournfully.

"Yes, it's one of life's little tragedies." Ivy's sardonic tone was not lost on Bruce.

"Perhaps I can offer you something that is of as great a value."

Bruce placed his hand over his heart. "Surely there's nothing greater than a woman's virtue," he replied with an exaggerated manner.

"Oh, I've got something even better, Bruce. What if I could guarantee you complete freedom from your ex-wife?"

Bruce grimaced when he thought of all the money he paid his harpy of an ex each month. "No more alimony?"

Ivy nodded. "No more alimony."

Bruce took the last sip of his wine and smiled. "I'm listening."


	28. Chapter 28

**Warning:** There is some "lovin'" in this chapter.

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

Love was a double-edged sword. Of that, Ivy Winthrop Crane was certain.

She'd fought all her life to protect her son. She'd even done a few things in the name of the love she had for him that some might have found objectionable.

But what was she to do with the knowledge she possessed?

Knowledge was, indeed, power. It had the potential to tear Theresa to shreds—and the power to tear Ethan to shreds, too.

How delicious.

Theresa had been playing mistress of the manor when, by all rights, she should not even bear the title of Mrs. Crane. The marriage remained unconsummated.

That tidbit would give Julian grounds to once and for all throw the little burrito out with the spoiled guacamole.

That morsel also made it all too clear that the child Theresa carried—the child Theresa lost—was Ethan's child.

What an odd sensation.

It was confounding, really, Ivy decided. How was she supposed to feel? The child had been part the man she loved more than anyone else in the world and part the woman she despised more words could express.

Her grandchild.

Being the decent, caring man Ivy knew him to be, she was certain Ethan would be devastated. Devastated that he had disavowed any relationship with Theresa once her pregnancy came to light á la Mort Chandler, devastated that she went through the pregnancy alone, and devastated the child died so tragically.

But wouldn't the truth finally free her from the disease that had permeated her life known as Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald?

Decisions, decisions.

There had to be some way to use the information to get rid of Theresa without destroying Ethan in the process.

Ivy had been so lost in thought she didn't hear the approaching footsteps.

"I don't believe it. We finally find ourselves in the same room."

Ivy was jerked from her thoughts about one son only to have to deal with another.

"Fox, I have a lot on my mind right now. I do not need you to add to it."

For nearly the last week, his mother had given him the silent treatment. After her outburst at the hospital, she had avoided him. Was it supposed to be some form of punishment? Fox could not be certain, but what he did know was that despite everything, he could not help but feel a twinge of something regarding the treatment. Was it anger? Was it hurt? It was hard to tell for she had not seen fit to give him the opportunity to explore those feelings.

"Great. It's so nice to know where I stand with you."

Ivy sighed. "What do you expect me to say? You are responsible for what happened to Ethan. You and Theresa."

"You're mistaken. Ethan is responsible for his own actions. I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything else to come from your mouth, though. Ethan can do no wrong, and I can do no right."

"Please, Fox. Self-pity is a very unattractive attribute."

"Says the queen of self-pity herself. How many times growing up did I walk in on you, much as I did just now, absorbed in the woes of your life? How many times did I ask you about that stupid locket you held while you cried? Never once did you see fit to share anything of yourself with me."

Ivy gripped the arms of her wheelchair. "Never once did you _want_ me to share myself with you. You were your father's son—so eager to be like him. So, does it please you to know that you _are_ like him? Are you proud to be destructive to those around you?"

"You'll never think anything but the worst of me. That's the way it's going to be, isn't it?"

"What good is there to think of you? You nearly _killed_ my son!"

"Dammit, I'm your son, too!"

"One of life's little jokes. If I had only been stronger, if I had only fought for my love for Sam…."

"Then neither I nor my sisters would be here."

"Fox, I didn't mean…"

"Yes, you did, Ivy. I always suspected, but at least now I know."

Ivy's mouth suddenly felt very dry. "I'm late to pick up Ethan."

"Of course. Far be it for me to prevent you from playing doting mother to your bastard son."

Ivy's jaw dropped. "How dare you!"

"How dare I? Let me _tell_ you how I dare, _Ivy_." Ivy flinched, noting the venom in her son's voice as he addressed her by her given name for the second time. "Not only does Ethan's illegitimate birth bastardize him, but his actions do, as well."

"Please! Ethan's never been anything but honorable! He doesn't have a malevolent bone in his body!"

"Oh really? Well, tell that to Theresa. Your oh-so-honorable son tried to rape her!" The words tumbled from Fox's mouth before he could stop them.

Ivy's jaw clenched. "Get out of my sight, Fox. I will not hear such lies, and I will not look at anyone who would utter such vicious lies."

"The truth hurts."

"Please. Obviously this came from Theresa, and that bitch wouldn't know the truth if it fell from the sky and crushed her. The fact that you would believe such nonsense is just insane!" Ivy groaned. "That woman, that she-devil, has ripped through this family like a tornado, leaving a path of destruction in her wake. Really, Fox, I thought you, _of all people_, were smarter than that.

"St. Ethan's halo shines brighter than ever," Fox said stiffly.

"I know my son, Fox. I _know_ him."

"Then why don't you ask him about it?"

"I don't have to ask him questions when I already know the answers," Ivy replied. With that, she surged ahead in her wheelchair, going past Fox and heading into the foyer.

Her heart pounded.

Theresa had sunk to a new low. To accuse Ethan of attempted rape? To spread such serious allegations was unthinkable! And for her to have convinced another person…that made her truly dangerous.

Ivy looked around her. This was her home. The pieces of furniture had been selected by her. The art work, the decorative touches—all had been added by her.

Theresa didn't belong there. She didn't deserve to be rewarded when she had not endured the suffering of being a true Crane wife.

Ivy had no choice.

Consequences be damned.

She was going to see that the trash was taken out to the curb once and for all, even if she had to get her hands dirty in the process.

* * *

Theresa opened the door to the room which housed the spacious indoor pool and was immediately met with a wave of warm, humid air.

She could hear a gentle splash, a smooth movement of the water, caused by the capable swimmer who surged underwater from one side of the pool to the other. He came up for breath and smoothed his hair back from his face.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," Theresa said with a smile.

Fox swam to the side of the pool where his lover stood. "You found me."

Theresa's brows furrowed. Fox's tone sounded clipped, terse. "You sound upset."

"Gee, what gave you that idea?"

Calmly, she replied, "Snapping at me won't make whatever's bothering you any better."

Fox squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head before speaking. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

Theresa removed her shoes and sat by the side of the pool, dangling her feet in the water. "It's okay."

Fox ran a wet hand along Theresa's bare leg. "No, it's not. You're the one person in this world that has shown me unconditional love. You're the only one who has ever believed in me, and how do I repay you?"

Theresa thought back to the night in her room when Fox had made her a sandwich, and she had all but tried to kick him out. "Lord knows, we've all had bad days and been cranky. I know for a fact that not so long ago, I was very cross with you. It just goes with the territory."

Fox sighed. "I don't know how I stayed sane for as long as I did without you."

Theresa reached out and touched his wet hair. "Same here."

Fox lifted himself out of the pool and sat next to Theresa. She watched him and licked her lips, an unconscious action. Even upset, he looked just …. _beautiful_. The way the water droplets ran down his face and dripped off his long eyelashes held her mesmerized. The way his muscles 

rippled as he moved made her want to reach out and touch him. Water puddle around him, reaching her, but she didn't care. She just loved being close to him.

"I had a conversation with my mother a little while ago."

"A conversation?" she asked dubiously.

"More like an argument," he corrected. "I don't know why I keep hoping that one day she'll open her eyes and actually be glad to see me. I should know better by now."

Theresa took his hand and squeezed it. "You want to believe the best in her. She's your mother."

"Well, she sure as hell doesn't want to believe the best in me. She made that abundantly clear."

"Is she still insisting that you were responsible for Ethan's accident?" Theresa asked quietly.

"Insisting? That's an understatement. She accused me of trying to kill him."

"You would never do that," Theresa maintained.

Fox took a deep breath. "I don't know, Theresa. I've thought back to that day. Over and over I've played the events in my head. I was so angry with Ethan—so violently angry—for a few minutes there, I could have killed Ethan for what he did to you."

"But you didn't cause his accident. I _know_ that."

"No, but I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to know agony. After what he tried to do to you, it was the least he deserved."

"But you didn't push him into the fire. By his own admission, he tripped over the fire poker that he had at first picked up to threaten _you_."

Fox closed his eyes, still able to see the burned flesh on Ethan's hands. "Try telling that to Ivy. You know, probably better than most people, that my father doesn't have a very strong moral compass. Even so, I never doubted he cared about my sisters and me. Underneath it all, I knew he did."

A tear slid Theresa's cheek. "I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better, Fox. I wish I knew how to take away this ache in your heart."

Fox reached out and wiped her tear away. "Hey, don't you get started on me. Besides, don't you know that just having you here with me makes me feel better? So I struck out in the family department. I more than made up for it with you."

"I love you, Fox."

"Music to my ears!" Fox leaned forward and brushed his lips against Theresa's. His heart started beating faster at the touch of her warmth and the taste of her sweetness.

A sigh escaped Fox's mouth.

How many times had they kissed each other? Hundreds? Thousands? Yet each time he kissed her, he marveled at how she could still elicit such a variety of delicious sensations.

Theresa parted her lips slightly, allowing him full access to her mouth. He turned his head slightly, garnering a better angle as his tongue plunged into her mouth, fully tasting her.

He pulled away, and she whimpered slightly in protest.

"I have an idea. We have the swimming pool all to ourselves. Take a dip with me."

"I don't have my swimsuit with me, but I can go change real fast," Theresa offered.

Fox grinned. "Who said anything about needing a swimsuit?" He stood and held out his hand to Theresa. She took it, and he pulled her to her feet.

Theresa looked up at Fox with anticipation as he held her close. He reached between them and untucked her blouse from her skirt.

"I see I have a helper," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"I think you'll find me to be quite helpful," he replied as his fingers nimbly began unbuttoning her blouse. He pushed the material off her shoulders, and slid it down her arms revealing a black, lacy brassiere. "Have I ever told you how much I love it when you wear black lingerie?"

Theresa reached behind her back and unzipped her skirt. It fell to her feet. Fox's eyes traveled from her blossoming cleavage to her still toned stomach down to lacy black panties. "A matching set," she said. "Just like you and me."

Fox sucked in his breath. "You have a beautiful body, Resa."

She chuckled. "Enjoy it while you can because it's going to be undergoing some major changes in the next seven months."

His hand rested on her abdomen. "I can't wait."

Theresa's heart swelled with love. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Make my heart feel like it's going to burst with love? Make me think that life with you can't possibly get any better than it already is, only to completely and totally surprise me and make me love you even more?"

He leaned her forehead against hers and whispered, "We're a matching set. That's how. Remember? Just like your lingerie."

Theresa giggled.

"Speaking of…I told you that I really like black lingerie, but did I tell you my favorite kind of lingerie?"

"Oh, do tell."

He reached behind her and unfastened the clasps on her bra with one swift movement. "The kind that's lying on the ground." He removed the undergarment and dropped it to the side of the pool.

His hands moved around and cupped her breasts. The pads of his thumbs stroked her nipples, and she moaned. "Oh, Fox, that feels so good," she sighed as she ran her fingers through his hair.

He turned her around, still cupping her breasts, but began to kiss the side of her neck. The kisses sent shivers of delight through her body. He might have been the one swimming in the pool, but she was wet. With his body so close to hers, she could feel the evidence of his desire for her, as well.

Oh, but she _ached_ for him.

The fervency of the sensations that coursed through her body made her feel like her equilibrium was askew and as though desire was something tangible.

One of his hands left her breast and dipped lower, sliding underneath the waistband of her panties, moving even lower….

He could feel her wetness, and it made him feel powerful.

"Is this for me?" His voice was husky, knowing.

"Only for you."

His fingers slipped between her folds, moving in a circular motion. Theresa felt as though she was going to come out of her skin.

"Oh yes, Fox. Yes!"

Her hips swayed, and his moved in concert with hers. She could feel his huge erection through the thin layer of her panties and his swimming trunks. They were molded together in their movements. Close, but not close enough.

"Fox…I want…" her words trailed off. She could hardly think straight. The effect he had on her was alternately thrilling and startling. He could make her lose all sense of time, all sense of place. He was her addiction.

Fox slid the panties over her hips and down her legs. Gently he turned her around to face him.

Wordlessly, Theresa trailed her fingers down his chest. He drew in a quick breath when her touches went lower. Through the material of his swimming trunks, she cupped him with one hand and stroked his long, hard shaft with the other.

"Resa…"

"I do believe, Mr. Crane, that those swimming trunks are a hindrance." She untied the drawstring that kept the shorts on his trim waist and removed them from his body. She stepped back slightly and looked at him. "That's more like it."

Her hands closed around his penis, stroking him, eliciting moans of pleasure from him.

His mouth came down on hers, taking absolute possession. She parted her lips, and his tongue swept inside to join with hers.

She sighed. His kisses were so mind blowing, so all-consuming.

_She loved kissing him. _

Earlier when they had kissed, she had remained rather passive, letting him feel his way to her. No longer. She started kissing him back, her tongue rubbing against his, slowly at first, then more boldly.

Fox couldn't get enough of her. He could feel her breasts pressing against his bare chest.

No matter how many times they made love, having her body pressed against his still had the power to drive him crazy.

His mouth slanted over hers, tasting her, tantalizing her, tempting her.

She pulled away, and their eyes met.

No words were spoken; they were unnecessary. The look they exchanged said everything.

_Come with me._

_I will follow you anywhere._

Theresa took his hand and led him to one of the chaise lounge chairs near the pool. She lay back on it, beckoning him to her.

He lowered himself onto her. He kissed her again, long and hard. His tongue moved inside her mouth to mate with hers.

She spread her legs, allowing him the access they both so desperately craved. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he eased into her tight sheath until he was surrounded by her, caressed by her tightness, and consumed with so much intense pleasure, he thought for certain he would die from it.

She moved against him, moaning his name as he filled her with his length and breadth. He rocked against her. Sensation after sensation flooded both of them. He slowly withdrew then thrust into her again.

"Oh yes.." she moaned. Fox felt so good to her. _So good_.

The rhythmic motions became more frenzied. Each thrust became more forceful, much quicker. Each time he sank into her was better than the time before. He was heedless to everything else but giving her pleasure and finding his own.

Her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck. He pulled her legs up to hold him around his hips. And then she began to move with him. She arched up when he pulled back, a ritual that was becoming more exhilarating with each touch, each stroke.

It was perfection.

A feeling began to rise within Theresa, a feeling she recognized from the many nights they had spent with their bodies joined as they were now. He'd given her the ultimate pleasure time and time again, and she knew she was about to experience it again.

Her fingernails dug into his back as her inner walls tightened around his thick shaft. Tremors wracked her body, overwhelming her.

It was beyond perfection.

Fox knew immediately when she orgasmed. He knew her body and the sweet sensations within. He thrust into her deeply once more before letting himself go.

And then he was gone.

Off the side of a giant precipice into sheer rapture.

Spilling his seed within her, he called her name.

Still joined, he turned them so that both were lying in the chair on their sides facing one another. Their breathing was labored, and their skin glistened with sweat.

It took each a moment to catch their breaths.

Fox brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen across her forehead. "You're so beautiful."

"So are you."

If any other person had called him beautiful, Fox would've scoffed. When Theresa said it, though, he knew she meant it.

"You know, I never get tired of this."

It was true. There had been other women in his life, but none of them had captivated him the way she had. She was his match in wits, his match in bed, and his match in life.

"Mmmmm. Me either. I don't ever want to let you go."

"Then don't ever let go. I know this may not be the best time or the best place….I hadn't even prepared for this, but I've certainly been thinking about it over and over ever since you first told me you loved me."

Theresa smiled. She'd never heard him ramble before. It was cute. "What is it, Fox?"

"Theresa, I know that technically you're still married to my father, but when all of that is sorted out, I want you to be my family and I want to be your family."

"Fox, are you trying to ask me something?"

His brown eyes looked earnestly into hers. "I want to do this the right way, Theresa. I'm not asking anything _yet_, but there is something I want to ask you when you're free to be asked."

She smiled. "And I already know the answer to that question."

She snuggled against him, warm with happiness.

* * *

She was cold.

This wasn't a pleasant kind of cold that one might experience when skiing down a mountain slope or going ice skating. This was a bone-chilling freeze that permeated every part of her body, a cold that filled her with fear.

Gwen Hotchkiss Winthrop had never known anything like it.

How long had she been locked in the dank cell? Two days? Three? It was long enough that her own body odor was beginning to bother her.

Did anyone even miss her?

"Damn you, Alistair!"

"Temper, temper," came a deep voice, filling the damp, chilly room.

Gwen clenched her fists. She'd been unaware that he was listening, but now that she had his attention, she was determined to make herself heard. "I demand you set me free this instant!"

"Look around you, Gwen. You're in no position to demand _anything_," came the harsh reply. "I, on the other hand, am in the position to control _everything_."

"Where are you?" she asked looking around her. She saw him nowhere, but he sounded so close. "I can't see you."

"But I can see you," Alistair replied. "I have a camera and microphone fixed right on you and a speaker for your listening pleasure."

Gwen slumped to the floor, her back against the wall. None of it made any sense. None of it. "Why am I here? I thought we had an arrangement."

"Stupid little girl. Did you really think I would allow you to interfere with my plans?"

"But I gave you valuable information, Alistair. How is that interfering? Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald deserves to be blown out of the water."

Alistair chuckled. It wasn't a pleasant sound. "Gwen, the bleach in your hair must be affecting your brain. Theresa's fate isn't up to you; it's up to me. I decide how the events in her life unfold, not you."

Gwen clawed at the dirt floor in frustration. "Alistair…"

"Frankly, dear, if I were you, I'd be more worried about my own fate instead of Theresa's. I told you earlier that your actions would be of _grave_ consequence."

"Alistair!"

_No answer_.

"Let me out of here!"

_No answer._

Then she saw it. A cloudy gas began to fill the room. With desperation, she looked around her for a vent she could open or some way out that she'd not spotted.

She saw nothing--nothing but the cloud that enveloped her, choking her.

She gasped, coughed.

Within the matter of a minute, she no longer had the breath to speak or the voice to cry for help, but her mind cried out.

_My curse on you, Theresa! My curse on you!_

Somewhere beyond the twilight, beyond the stars, the silent cry of vengeance resonated as loudly as crashing thunder.

At that moment, events were set in motion.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

Ethan Winthrop stared out the window of the limousine. He felt as though he were a child again—a twenty-eight year old child. It was strange, really. His mother had to buckle his seatbelt and even adjust his jacket, which had become bunched up when he entered the limo and leaned back against the sumptuous cushions.

He was used to being taken care of by the women in his life. So why did this feel so odd? Maybe it was because this was a different version of being taken care of. Or perhaps it was knowing that his mother was taking him back to the Crane Mansion, a place from which, technically, he'd been barred.

"Mother, I really don't think going back to the mansion is a good idea," Ethan said quietly, voicing his concerns.

Ivy Winthrop Crane looked at her son with exasperation. "Where else can I keep an eye on you? Besides, it's your home."

Ethan shook his head. "Not anymore. Theresa made that quite clear. She wants me gone. I already would be if not for the accident."

Ivy's blue eyes narrowed. "You mean the murder attempt."

"Mother!" he chastised.

Ivy reached out and rested her hand on her son's shoulder. "Don't 'mother' me. Ethan, you don't have to protect Nicholas. I know what he tried to do to you."

"No, you don't. You weren't there. What happened to me is my own fault."

"The broken nose? The cuts? Those are your fault, too?" Ivy inquired sarcastically.

Ethan thought back to the revelation his half-brother made, how he had tried to force himself on Theresa when he was drunk.

Quietly, he stated, "I deserved everything I got, and then some."

"What has gotten into you?" Ivy asked. "For that matter, what's gotten into everyone else? I haven't seen Gwen in days. I know the two of you _supposedly_ called off your marriage, but I thought for sure she would at least have called me or checked up on you."

"There is no 'supposedly' about it. It's over between Gwen and me," Ethan stated crisply.

"Don't give up on her, son. You have to fight for true love. Believe me. That was the biggest mistake I ever made; I didn't fight hard enough."

Ethan thought back to his conversation with Pilar. "I will be fighting, Mother. I will be."

"I'm so glad to hear it. First love—it's so special, so incomparable. You can't let Gwen go."

"It's not Gwen I want."

Ivy rolled her eyes. "I thought you were over this. Wasn't it bad enough that Theresa sold both of us out to the tabloids? You lost _everything_. But that's not all she is responsible for. I know she was somehow involved in what happened with you and Fox. Ethan, you could have died! That woman is poison! Everything she touches gets destroyed."

"Funny. And here I thought _your_ nickname was Poison Ivy."

"Ethan!"

"Look, I'm sorry, Mother. This is just something you're going to have to accept. Gwen and I are _not_ going to be together."

Ivy sighed.

"I know you've said you want me at the mansion so you can take better care of me, but I'm not sure I should be there with things as they are."

"Look, I'm more than happy to evict Nicholas if it will make you more comfortable, but the fact of the matter is you are not in a position to take care of yourself. You need me."

Ethan held up his still-bandaged hands. "And I suppose you're going to be the one to wipe my nose, wrap my hands, or help me change clothes?"

Ivy hesitated, "Well, maybe not me _personally_, but you know I'll make sure _someone_ does it for you."

"Just like I thought."

"What?"

"You never were one for patching up the scraped knees and cut elbows. It was always Pilar who looked out for me when I was a child."

"Not you, too!"

"What do you mean by that?" Ethan queried.

"Just that I've already had to deal with one child who had less than flattering things to say about my mothering skills today. I just didn't think I would hear such talk from you, too."

Ethan backtracked. "Mother, I didn't mean to criticize you. I only meant to point out that I could stay anywhere."

"I know you would never purposely hurt me, darling. You are the one person in this world who has been a constant source of joy. I hope you also know that I would never do anything to purposely hurt you."

"Of course I do."

Ivy closed her eyes for a moment, thinking of the information she possessed. At last, she could finally rid Theresa from her precious son's life. Would Ethan be able to forgive her methods, though?

_R-r-r-i-i-i-n-g!_

"Is that your cell phone or mine?" Ethan asked.

Ivy's brows furrowed. "I think it's mine."

"Good," Ethan said quietly. He was relieved the call was for his mother. After all, the simplest, most mundane tasks were much more difficult to complete with his injured hands. Besides, maybe whoever was on the phone would distract her for a few minutes so he could regain his bearings.

Ivy retrieved the phone from her purse. Looking at the display, she said quietly, "It's Alistair."

Ethan's brows furrowed. Why would his former grandfather be calling his mother? Since her divorce from Julian, Alistair barely tolerated her. Rarely did he initiate contact.

"Hello, Alistair."

The deep voice of Alistair Crane boomed through the phone's speaker. _"Hello, Ivy. Now that you're on your way home with Ethan, I want you and your son to make plans to be in the dining room at 8:00 P.M. sharp."_

"Wait a second. How did you know…?" Ivy began but then remembered to whom she was speaking. Her former father-in-law had the uncanny ability to trace the whereabouts of virtually anyone at any time. "Oh, never mind. May I ask why?"

"_What is it people normally do in the dining room, Ivy?"_

Ivy bit her lip. "Well, normal people _sup_ in a dining room, but nothing that happens in the mansion these days seems normal."

"_Still bitter, I see."_

"Always," Ivy replied sweetly.

"_Don't be late,"_ Alistair replied tersely before ending the conversation.

Ivy sighed as she looked to her son.

"What did Alistair want?" Ethan asked.

"Oh, he requests the honor of our presence for dinner tonight."

"Why?"

Ivy crossed her arms. "Knowing him as I do, he undoubtedly has something up his sleeve."

_But then again, so do I_.

Ivy pushed aside the initial trepidation she felt from Alistair's call. This could definitely work to her advantage.

She would make it work.

* * *

"I think I've died and gone to heaven," Theresa sighed.

"Oh, you've got too much hell to raise to be at that point yet," Fox replied as he worked Theresa's hair into a lather with shampoo. He worked the mixture through her thick tresses, massaging her scalp and sending tingles of delight through her body.

Theresa giggled as she watched some of the froth fall to the shower floor and wash down the drain. "I think you may have used too much."

Fox trailed a finger down the small of her back. "I'm a firm believer in excesses. Besides, it lets me keep you naked longer."

Theresa turned to face her lover. "You've already had me naked for a couple of hours now. What with the time we spent at the pool and the time we've been in this shower." She reached out and stroked the cleft of his chin. "And you know, the funny thing is that I never did get that swim I talked about taking."

Fox grinned. "Well, plenty of little swimmers got hold of you."

Her cheeks felt flushed. "Fox!"

He positioned her under the showerhead so that the water rinsed away her shampoo. "I can't believe you still get embarrassed after all the times we've slept together and considering all the _ways_ we've done it."

"I know. It's silly."

"No, it's not silly if that's how you really feel. It just surprises me. That's all."

"Sometimes I still feel so much like a child," Theresa admitted.

"Well, you aren't. I can attest to that. There is a freshness about you, though, that I've never seen in another person. You still see so much wonder in the world around you."

"That's only because you show me wonder," Theresa replied as she shut off the water. "You make me see so many possibilities."

Fox kissed her gently on the lips. "You do the same for me."

He pushed open the shower door, stepped out onto the mat, and retrieved a fluffy towel for her from the towel rack. He passed it to her in the shower, and she wrapped it around her wet hair.

Holding his hand out to her, she took it and stepped from the shower onto the mat. From the hook on the back of the bathroom door, she grabbed her oversized bathrobe and slipped it on.

Fox, in turn, fastened a towel around his waist.

Theresa walked from the bathroom into the adjacent bedroom. Fox followed.

She sat on the edge of the tall bed, her feet dangling off the side. "I sometimes wish we could stay in here forever."

"We've spent many happy nights in here," Fox replied. "But what awaits us out there is even better. Resa, I want to be with you in broad daylight. I want to be able to show you off. I want to take you to places you've never seen."

"This room feels so much safer, you know? I want all those things, too, Fox. I truly do. It's just that real life is so complicated. And I can't help but feel like there are all these forces working against us."

Fox frowned at hearing her tone. "But you've told me that you're working on a way to get it _un_complicated."

Theresa nodded. "I had Woody draw up annulment papers. I'm not going to ask Julian for anything; it will be like our sham of a marriage never took place."

"How long before you approach him with the papers?"

"Tonight. I'm going to ask him to sign them tonight. I'm sure he'll be thrilled. Although there _is_ a good chance that I'll be leaving this place…"

"Oh no, you don't!" Fox said vehemently as he sat next to her. "There is no way I'm letting you out that door. Once you get the annulment papers signed, then we can be out in the open about our relationship." He rested his hand on her abdomen. "I want to shout from the rooftops that the woman I love is having my child."

Theresa placed her hand over his. "I want that, too. I want that more than anything. I'm not ashamed of loving you, Fox."

With haste Fox's mouth descended upon hers, taking absolute possession. His impulsive kisses were needful and powerful; he took her breath away with his urgency.

She lay back on the bed, bringing him with her.

His hand moved to the cord which drew her bathrobe together. He tugged at it, pulling it open and revealing her still-moist skin.

"Oh Fox," she murmured as he trailed kisses from her mouth, across her cheek, and to the sensitive crook of her neck. "I want you. I need you."

"Dios mio! Not again!" The door to the bedroom slammed shut.

The duo had been so caught up in one another, they had not heard the door open. However, they certainly heard it close.

"Mama!" Theresa gasped as she looked toward the door and saw her mother standing with a clenched jaw.

"Mi hija, cover yourself!" Pilar scolded.

Theresa pulled the robe together in acquiescence.

Pilar glared at Fox. "What are you doing here? I told you to stay away from my daughter."

"No offense, Pilar, but you have five children of your own. I think you know what I'm doing here. Secondly, you may have told me to stay away from Theresa, but I think I made it pretty clear that I wasn't going to."

"Mama, you should have knocked," Theresa said quietly.

"A mother should not have to knock on her daughter's door. But what if I had been someone else? This dangerous game the two of you are playing is going to get someone hurt, and I will not let that someone be you, Theresita."

Theresa stood, anger coursing through her. "But I already _am_ hurt, Mama. _You_ are hurting me. I'm sorry you don't approve, but I don't need your approval. I love Fox. He is my everything. We are together, and we are going to raise our child together."

Fox watched Pilar's reaction. He saw nothing of what he expected. She expressed no surprise; instead, she looked saddened.

"You knew?" Fox asked.

"I suspected," Pilar replied. "It is as I feared."

Theresa gasped. "It is as you 'feared?' How can you say that about your own grandchild?"

Pilar stepped forward to take her daughter's hands in her own, but Theresa pulled away. "Oh, mi hija, do not mistake my reaction. I welcome an innocent grandchild, but these circumstances are wrong. Fox is your _step-son_. Not only that, he has proven over and over again that he does not know how to provide stability in a relationship."

"Um…hello. I'm standing right here," Fox piped in. "Look, I know nothing I say will change your mind about me, Pilar, but there is that old cliché that actions speak louder than words."

"Yes, and your actions in the past have spoken volumes."

"Oh, yes, the past. Well, unlike you, I don't live in the past."

Pilar flinched from the young man's sharp barb.

Fox continued, "I love your daughter. Obviously, it's going to take you awhile to accept that. Frankly, I don't care whether you accept that for my sake, but I do care about how this affects your daughter. So next week, next month, next year, fifty years from now, when you see that I still love your daughter and am faithful to her, maybe you'll change your mind about my capacity to provide stability in a relationship."

"Mama, I know the words you speak are out of love and a desire to protect me, but don't you see that I don't _need_ to be protected from Fox?"

"Perhaps you should be protected from yourself."

"Enough! Do you hear yourself? You're starting to sound like Ivy. You're justifying hurting your child by saying you're trying to protect me. I don't need you for that, Mama. I just want your love and support with no strings attached."

"Mi hija, you always have my love, but this relationship…I _cannot_ support it."

"Then there's nothing else for us to say."

"Theresa," Pilar pleaded.

"No!" Theresa lifted her hands. "I'm not doing this anymore. I am happier than I have ever been."

"You were happy with Ethan once."

Pilar felt desperate. Her daughter was slipping away. Surely, if Theresa knew that the possibility of reconciliation with Ethan existed, she would rethink her brashness.

Fox turned away, shaking his head.

Theresa spoke, her words measured. "Ethan and I should _never_ have been together. I tried to mold myself into what he wanted, it was wrong, and I ended up paying the price."

"He still loves you."

"Of all the hypocrisy! You condemn me for loving Fox because he is Julian's son, but you would push me toward a married man?"

"Ethan and Gwen are no more," Pilar informed Theresa. "He is free."

"Well, I'm not. And even if I were free, Ethan hurt me in unmentionable ways. There are issues between us that can never be resolved. If I never see him again, it will be too soon."

"Then 'too soon' will be here sooner than you think. Alistair has called for a family dinner at 8:00 P.M. tonight. Apparently, he has requested Ethan's presence, as well. That was what I came here to tell you this evening."

Fox harrumphed. "A family dinner? Since when does Grandfather encourage family bonding time?"

"Why would Alistair invite Ethan? When he found out Ethan wasn't truly a Crane, Alistair kicked Ethan out of the family and never looked back," Theresa said.

Pilar wrung her hands. "I only know what I've been told. I would suggest that the two of you stop fraternizing long enough to make yourselves presentable. If anyone were to get wind of what's been going on, I shudder to think of the consequences."

"They'll know shortly. Theresa's soon-to-be growing tummy will be a sure-fire sign," Fox commented.

Pilar's dark eyes narrowed. "And I'm terrified for her." With that, she exited the room.

Fox looked to Theresa. "Well, that went well."

* * *

From the service cart in the corner of the dining room, Julian Crane poured himself another brandy. It had been his habit, as of late, to have a couple before dinner. And after dinner. Sometimes before work. And after work. Indeed, the amber colored liquid seemed to make life somehow more bearable.

His pride still smarted from his wife's bartering earlier. It was ironic to him. When he first met her five years ago as a wide-eyed teenager, she had seemed so innocent and unassuming.

Looks were definitely deceiving. Theresa was a barracuda, threatening to bite at any instant. And what a chunk she'd taken out earlier. 75,000 to be exact.

Why did he always seem to attract harpies? Hell, forget attracting harpies. He didn't just attract them. He _married_ them. First, there was the ice princess Ivy. Then there was red-hot-burns-everything-she-touches Theresa.

It had started out promisingly enough. Julian remembered all the drinks and laughs they shared in Bermuda. The next morning, they weren't laughing anymore, though. His bachelor days were gone all too quickly. Not that he didn't live his life like a bachelor anyway, but having an unwilling wife made matters much more tedious.

"Oh the fun I could have had," Julian commiserated as he lifted his glass to eye level.

"_Still_ talking to yourself, Julian? Nasty, nasty habit."

Julian rolled his eyes at the sound of his ex-wife's droning speech. "When did you get here, my pet? Did they finally let you out of your corral?"

Ivy smiled, her perfectly straight teeth practically gleaming. "Oh, Julian, you are so witty. I assume you're ready for second grade now."

"At least second graders get a snack time. You, my poison parasite, never were very tasty."

"Only because I was tainted by your stench, my ex-ball-and-chain."

"It's business as usual around here, I see," Ethan said as he ambled into the dining room.

Julian smiled. "Ethan, congratulations on not only surviving your hospital stay but also surviving the ride home with your treacherous mother."

Ethan frowned. He had been exposed to Julian and his mother's arguing for as long as he could remember. Still, it had never been comfortable for him to listen to his mother being verbally attacked. "Julian, that's enough."

Ivy held her hand up to silence her son. "It's fine, Ethan. Nothing can spoil my mood tonight. Not even you, Julian."

"What a shame," Julian replied wryly before taking a gulp of his alcohol.

Fox walked into the dining room clapping his hands. "Well, well. Grandfather brings the family out. Minus one, of course, seeing as how Ethan isn't really a Crane after all. I can always count on dear Mother and Father to put on a show far more entertaining than anything I could watch on television."

"You _would_ find this entertaining," Ethan sniffed.

"Oh, come on. Lighten up. Ivy and Jules here have been sparring for years. Mother has sharpened her claws on him. No need to get sensitive on her behalf."

"Perhaps if you had been around more, you would appreciate how inappropriate Julian's attacks on Mother are."

"Right. And stick around to see you worshipped, Prince Ethan? Like hell. No, see, the fun began when you were dethroned."

"Nicholas!" Ivy's tone was harsh.

"Would it hurt you to try to show a little respect for our mother?" Ethan asked.

Fox scratched his chin. "What? The way she's shown respect for me and our sisters? Yeah. Yeah, it would."

"Gentlemen, there's not a fireplace in this room. Perhaps if the two of you moved your quarrel into the living room…" Julian suggested.

"There will be no fighting tonight," Ivy insisted. "At least, no physical fighting," she amended. "Though it is very tempting to try to strangle you, Julian."

"Please. The best you could do in that wheelchair is run over my toes."

Ivy's perfectly plucked eyebrows raised. Julian, realizing he had given his ex-wife an idea, positioned himself behind the service cart, providing a barrier between them.

"Home sweet home," Theresa said from the doorway of the dining room. "I can just feel the love in this room."

Theresa surveyed the dining room inhabitants. Julian, as usual, had a drink in his hand and a look of boredom on his face. Ivy, so perfectly coiffed, sat rigidly in her wheelchair, her seething expression indicating her annoyance that her rival was invited. Fox looked wonderfully handsome in the suit he wore, his white shirt a contrast to his tanned skin. And then there was 

Ethan. He still looked like hell with the yellowish bruises on his face and his bandaged hands. What was he doing there anyway? Why did Alistair insist he attend the family get-together?

Ethan, seeing Theresa's gaze on him, offered an explanation. "I know you didn't want to see me, but Alistair insisted I come. He's a difficult man to deny."

Theresa cleared her throat. "Yes, he doesn't know the meaning of the word no—a quality that he shares with someone else I know."

Ethan felt his face grow hot at Theresa's obvious jab.

"Theresa, this dinner is for family only. You're not welcome here," Ivy protested.

"Actually, _Ms. Winthrop_, I am family. I have more of a right to be here than you do. See, legally, I am Mrs. Julian Crane. You are just an interloper."

"Says the bitch queen of interloping. Wasn't it you who trespassed on the estate so you could stalk my son?"

"And wasn't it you who used her son's paternity as an excuse to stalk your happily married ex-lover?"

"Ladies…" Ethan began to referee.

Fox rolled his eyes. "Oh, let them have their spat, Ethan. It's fun to watch."

Ethan shook his head. "This place is insane."

"Then feel free to leave anytime," Theresa retorted.

"No one's going anywhere," said Alistair appearing behind Theresa in the doorway. "After all, I have plans for each of you tonight."

Julian walked around the serving cart. "Father, what is all of this about? A family dinner? It's almost sounds sentimental."

The tall man lit up a cigar. Theresa moved away from the smoke and stood next to Fox.

"I assure you, I've not turned into a sentimental fool, Julian. Of course, you would have a difficult time recognizing that as you are a fool yourself."

"I am getting very tired of your demeaning comments."

"Oh, and is the alcohol making you brave, Julian?"

Theresa actually felt sorry for her faux husband. No wonder he behaved as he did. What kind of example did he have to look up to growing up except a man who belittled him at every turn?

She looked at Fox and could see from his expression that he, too, felt sorry for his father. It was one thing to watch the playful insults that ping-ponged between his parents, but quite another thing for a parent to treat his child with such blatant disregard. Fox knew all too well how that stung.

"Now that we've all insulted one another, it's starting to feel a lot like Christmas—except that Christmas was months ago," Fox said flippantly, "and I don't see any presents."

"I see you've still not learned to hold your tongue, Fox," Alistair said turning his attention to his grandson.

"What's the point? I mean, you only live once, right? Well, that is unless you're Auntie Sheridan or my step-mommy."

"I think once was more than enough in Theresa's case," Ivy chimed in. "Really, Alistair, did you have to bring her back?"

"If only to vex you, it was worth it, Ivy," Alistair chuckled.

"Technically," interjected Theresa, "I wasn't dead. I know that was a terrible disappointment for you, Ivy. I heard you gloat over my coffin thinking you were finally rid of me. The beauty of it is that you'll never be rid of me."

Ivy smirked, thinking of the knowledge she possessed. "We'll see about that."

"So, um, are we supposed to be spectators or participants?" Fox asked.

Alistair extended his hand pointing to the dinner table. "Right now, we're going to be diners. I've taken care of some very tedious matters today and have acquired an appetite."

Both Theresa and Ivy moved toward the dining room table, but stopped abruptly when each realized the other was moving toward the same area. "Please, Ivy. You go on. Age before beauty."

Ivy's eyes narrowed. "I assume you've called for some antacids, Alistair? Sharing a table with this gold digger is apt to give us all indigestion."

"It could always be worse, Ivy," Alistair replied as he took the large, overstuffed dining chair at the head of the table. "Just think if Rebecca were here, too." His gaze went to his son, "But she didn't get there soon enough to bleed you dry, did she, Julian? How lucky for you that you stumbled into a marriage with Theresa."

"Lucky is not a word that comes to mind," Julian replied.

"The feeling is mutual," Theresa added taking a seat to the right of Alistair and opposite Ivy. Her nemesis glared at her, and Theresa merely smiled back.

"Fox, come take a seat next to your step-mother," Alistair instructed. "The two of you have grown close, have you not?"

Did Alistair know? Fox wondered. Regardless of whether Alistair knew at that point about his relationship with Theresa, his grandfather would know soon enough.

Ethan followed suit and sat next to his mother. Julian sat opposite his father.

"So, what's for dinner, Father?" Julian asked.

Alistair leaned back in his chair and smiled. It was not a pleasant sight. "Isn't it obvious? Lambs, Julian. Lambs to the slaughter."

"No offense, Grandfather, but you really creep me out sometimes," Fox said nonchalantly as he leaned back in his chair.

"I would watch my tone if I were you, Fox," Alistair warned.

"Or what? You herd us in here like 'lambs to the slaughter,' and we're just supposed to passively take whatever you throw our way? I don't think so."

"You speak forcefully for one who has so much to lose."

Ivy licked her lips. "Fox isn't the only one with much to lose." She looked to Theresa.

Alistair coolly surveyed his former daughter-in-law. "Shut up, Ivy. When I want your input, I'll ask for it."

"But I-" Ivy faltered, the wind in her sails deflated. Her normally perfectly erect shoulders slumped.

"You all make me sick. Cowering with your secrets, cowering with your fear. But I know everything that's been going on. Everything."

"Fine. So you know everything. Then why the theatrics?" Theresa asked.

"I suppose you think me crazy, Theresa."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"Eccentric, perhaps? After all, men with as much money and power as I have are _eccentric_, not crazy. But then again, maybe I am just plain crazy by being exposed to everyone's idiocy. I've 

watched each of you run your lives like rats in a maze. Taking turn after turn only to go to a dead end. Each of you has schemed…"

"Alistair," Ethan began, "I don't think this is appropriate."

Alistair lifted an eyebrow. "Appropriate?" he scoffed. "Oh, that's right. Ethan, you always were above such notions, weren't you? So upright. So honest."

"I've tried to be," Ethan said earnestly.

Alistair took a drag of his cigar. "I was here that night a little over a week ago. I saw just how upright and honest you were as you forced Theresa onto that couch. You were up right on top of her and honest about your intentions to take what you wanted."

Ivy's jaw dropped. She looked from Alistair to her son. It couldn't be true. Could it?

She saw the blood drain from Ethan's face, as well as the look of shame on his features.

"That night, I wasn't myself. I'd been delivered terrible news, and I had been drinking…"

It was! Fox had been right. No, somehow this had to be Theresa's fault. Somehow, that bitch must have been teasing him, tempting him, only to turn him away when things grew more intense. There simply was no way her gentle hearted son could _ever_ try to force himself on a woman.

"Excuses," Alistair muttered.

Theresa shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Anger filled her voice. "I didn't see you coming to my aid," she snapped at her father-in-law. "Were you just going to let him rape me?"

"You had matters under control, and if you didn't, then you deserved whatever came your way."

Fox pushed his chair back. "How can you justify that, Grandfather?" he demanded.

"I don't have to justify myself to any of you. What I find fascinating is that just as Ethan isn't what he seems, neither are you Fox." Alistair then turned his attention to Theresa. "And neither are you, my dear."

"Finally!" Ivy interjected. "That's what I've been saying all along. In fact…"

"Do I need to get one of the servants to fetch duct tape for your overused mouth, Ivy?" Alistair asked. "How did you stand it all those years, Julian?"

"I learned to tune her out," Julian replied.

"Well, here's something that I trust you won't tune out, Julian."

Julian stifled a yawn. The brandy was wearing on him. "And what's that, Father?"

"Congratulations are in order. You're going to be a father. Again."

Julian looked at him in confusion. Did Alistair know something he didn't know? Well, obviously he did. That man had a way of knowing the impossible. But Julian thought he had been careful when he encountered Marisol…no wait, her name was Margarite… and Suzette and Mary Elizabeth and….

Julian swallowed hard. His mouth was suddenly very dry. "And who is the lucky mama to be?"

Ivy shuddered. How like Julian to have been with so many women, he wasn't certain which of his bimbos was pregnant.

Alistair looked to his daughter-in-law. "Your wife, of course. Theresa is pregnant."

An audible gasp was heard around the room.

Ivy smiled, confident that Ethan would finally see Theresa for the slut she was. Yet her smile faded quickly. Dammit. Actually having a child with Julian would make their marriage legitimate. Dammit!

Ethan hung his head low. Why Alistair assumed the child was Julian's was ludicrous, but he would not be the one to correct that assumption. Theresa was having a baby with his half-brother. It hurt. God, how it hurt.

Fox didn't know how to react. What was his grandfather doing? Hadn't Alistair just subtly admitted he knew the truth of what was going on with him and Theresa? Why the ruse?

Fox looked to Theresa whose steely gaze seemed to bore a hole through his grandfather. He had seen the look before; she was angry. Very angry.

"Theresa!" Julian gasped as he bolted to his feet and pointed a finger at his young wife. "But you and I….we haven't…." He struggled to find words to express himself. "You, you whore!"

Fox lifted his hand. "That's enough, Father."

"I will not raise another woman's bastard!" Julian burst out. Ethan flinched.

"No one has asked you to, Julian," Theresa replied calmly. She looked at the faces around her. "Obviously, this is not the way I wanted news of my pregnancy to come out, but now that it has, I think this would be an appropriate time to ask one last favor of you, husband dear."

"I will give you _nothing_! I will see you out on the street in the gutter where you belong!"

"You'll give me nothing? Not even an annulment, Julian?" Theresa asked.

Julian perked up. "An annulment?"

"Like hell!" Alistair boomed. "There will be no annulments, no divorces, and no fodder for the tabloids. That means no leaks, _Ivy_."

Ivy looked at the older man with feigned wide-eyed innocence.

"As far as the world is concerned, the child Theresa carries is yours, Julian. This child will bear the Crane name, with all the power and all the advantages that entails."

Ivy clenched her fists. "You would give _Theresa's_ bastard the world—a child who isn't a Crane—when you denied _my_ son who was groomed to be the heir?"

Fox looked to Theresa and gently took her hand in his. "Save your righteous indignation on behalf of my half-brother. You see, this child _is_ a Crane, Mommy Dearest. Or maybe I should call you _Grandma._"


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter Thirty**

Ivy choked, a fairly remarkable feat as she had nothing in her mouth. "Wh-what?"

"That's right. Theresa is having _my_ child."

Ivy felt positively nauseated. That duplicitous slut! That mongrel tramp! Pregnant? _Again_?! With her grandchild? By a different son?

Thank God it wasn't Ethan's child. Perhaps _finally_ her eldest son would recognize that Theresa would stop at nothing to secure her place in the Crane Empire, even if that meant going through every male in the family to do it.

"Why am I not surprised?" Ivy sniffed.

Fox rolled his eyes. "Oh please, Mother. You didn't have a clue!"

Julian sank into his chair. "My own son? Fox, I don't know what to say. You and…and….Theresa? Now it all makes sense. Those times I noticed you and my young wife appearing closer than either of you would acknowledge. How you came to Theresa's rescue at the party…how you and she were inseparable at the hospital. Even today, I found the two of you in her office together. You backed her up when she strong-armed me. Everything finally fits!"

"I can't believe you imbeciles didn't figure it out sooner," Alistair commented. "Oh, but you knew, didn't you, Ethan?"

Ethan met his former grandfather's gaze. "Yes," he replied simply.

"What a sting that must be. Seeing your former lover pregnant with a child that isn't yours."

Ethan squared his shoulders. "I've seen it before," he said, trying to sound casual.

Alistair smiled. "No, you haven't."

Theresa's heart stopped.

_No!_

He couldn't. He _wouldn't_!

Ivy narrowed her eyes. This was supposed to be _her_ reveal, and Alistair was ruining everything!

Confusion filled Ethan's features. "What are you talking about, Alistair? Julian getting Theresa pregnant and then her lying about it is what caused us to break up in the first place."

"Tsk, tsk, Theresa. Yet another secret you've been carrying."

Alistair looked to Theresa's crestfallen face. Memories of her lost son flooded her mind. Without thinking, she rested her hand on her abdomen as though to shield the child she carried from those terrible memories.

"How could you? To use my child—my beautiful son—in some _sick_ game is cruel. Even for you."

The older man looked amused. "But the truth must come out. All of it."

"What is he talking about, Theresa?" Ethan asked, his blue eyes flashing with emotion. But as he realized what the exchange was about, his heart sank. He had turned his back on Theresa when she was carrying _his_ child.

Every possibility for a life together died when their child died. What he had done was unforgivable—yet something else he could add to the growing list of his sins. He abandoned the woman he loved most over his stupid sense of pride.

And what did he have? Nothing.

No wonder she was so upset the night he came back to Harmony. She had appeared shaken after seeing Bruce. Ethan remembered all too well how she trembled with anger and despair.

"That's what I would like to know," Julian snarled. "Is my father saying that none of us should ever have been saddled to you in the first place?" Julian wrinkled his nose at the thought of being a _grand_father to his wife's child.

Theresa stood and leaned her fists against the table. "Does it make you feel good, Alistair, to try to make other people feel bad? Does it make you feel powerful to try to pull our strings like a puppeteer?"

"You forget, child, that I _am_ powerful. I could squash you like a bug."

Theresa crossed her arms, preparing herself to call his bluff. "But you won't, and do you know why? I am carrying the Crane heir. Not Julian's child but Fox's."

"This child will be known as Julian's child," Alistair reasserted.

"Don't I get a say in this?" Julian asked raising his hand.

"No," Fox replied as he stood behind Theresa and placed his hands on her shoulders, "and neither do you, Grandfather."

Alistair snuffed his cigar in a tray and drew his hands together. "You have already caused the family enough embarrassment, Nicholas."

"Please," Ivy retorted. "It's not Nicholas. The source of every _ounce_ of embarrassment this family has endured stems from Theresa. She was the one who sent my personal, private papers to the tabloid that revealed Ethan's paternity. She's the one who confessed to murdering Julian and went to death row. She's the one who regularly makes a spectacle of herself in public."

Theresa's face grew hot. How long had she endured Ivy's acid-tongued taunts? Enough was enough.

"At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I am not the monster you make me out to be. I _never_ had any contact with the tabloid, which is more than I can say for you." Theresa cracked her knuckles. "And since you mentioned confession, Ivy, I hear it's good for the soul, though in your case I'm not sure you have a soul…"

Ivy looked at her rival with cold eyes, her manner self-assured. "Don't be daft, Theresa. What on Earth are you talking about? What would I possibly have to confess?"

"Where you were on the night Julian was shot, for starters."

Ivy rolled her eyes. "That's not the issue at hand. What is at hand is how to deal with yet another predicament you've caused for the family."

Julian's brown eyes narrowed. "Nice try at dodging, my pet, but that is something _I_ would like to know, as well."

"That's right, _Mother_, and you _are_ the one who brought up that night," Fox added with the slightest hint of glee.

Ivy rolled her eyes, uncomfortable with the line of questioning. "I have nothing to say."

"Then how fortunate a picture is worth a thousand words. I was able to retrieve the security footage from the cannery. I saw the footage of my so-called husband being gunned down." Theresa paused for effect. "And I saw who was responsible."

Ethan looked to his mother, finally seeing her unveiled for the first time.

"So, by all means, go ahead and cast stones, Ivy, but be aware that I will cast them right back at you. And oh—my aim is better than yours."

Ivy looked furtively to her oldest son. "Ethan, you've got to do something," she murmured.

"It seems you've done plenty, Mother." His voice was cold, managing to send chills down Ivy's spine.

Alistair looked around at the chaos he had caused. "You've all been naughty boys and girls. It's time to pay a penance."

Anger welled in Fox. How many times had he heard his Grandfather's reprimands? How many times had Alistair shaken his finger and condemned them for their actions when he, himself, was guilty of unspeakable things? There were too many times to count. He worked to control their lives, to make them miserable, and for what? Stupidly, they had let him.

_No more. _

"Enough, Grandfather."

Alistair's hazel eyes widened with incredulity. "What did you say?"

Fox continued, "I said, enough. I'm cutting the strings. You are not the master of our fates. We are. Maybe it's been so long since you sold your soul that you've forgotten what it's like to have one. Something you apparently have in common with my mother. At any rate, let me make something clear enough. I don't give a damn if my relationship with Theresa sullies the family's reputation or angers you—or for that matter anyone else. I'm not going to jump through hoops for the rest of my life just waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"I will cut you off, Fox."

"Then do it!" Fox yelled. "But stop trying to control how we live our lives!"

Theresa turned to look at Fox, admiration shining in her eyes. How she loved him—his bravery, his devil-may-care attitude. If he had used it on anyone but Alistair Crane, she would have been convinced they would finally get some peace. But Alistair Crane wasn't known for his ability to let sleeping dogs lie.

She turned to study her father-in-law, expecting to see his lined face blotched with anger. Instead, she saw a look of amusement—and something else. If she didn't know better, she would think Alistair was _pleased._

_Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. _

Alistair's large hands moved together, forming hollow applause. "Bravo! I was beginning to think no one in this family had any balls left."

Fox looked at his grandfather with uncertainty. Of all the reactions he thought he might receive, this was not one of them. Was Alistair yanking their chains once again? Only one way to find out…

"So what gives?"

Alistair stood from his chair at the head of the table and approached his only grandson. "I thought you to be reckless, and I was right. Carrying on an affair with your _step-mommy_, as you're so fond of calling Theresa, was a brash move on your part. The fact that you did it under the noses of everyone here shows you to be something else: shrewd. I should dispose of you for 

the impudence you showed me tonight, but I'm not going to do that because I've seen something else in you that I like."

"And what's that?"

"Myself."

Fox shook his head in disbelief. "You and I are not alike, Grandfather."

"Well, you sure as hell didn't get your cunning from your father—or your mother. She wasn't smart enough to cover her own tracks before she started pointing fingers at others. And you, Theresa—I'm impressed with you, as well. Blackmailing Julian to get your dirt on Ivy was a brilliant move."

"That would not have been my first choice," Theresa admitted.

"But it worked. You were willing to get what you wanted by any means necessary."

Fox shuddered. "I'm not entirely comfortable with this love fest."

"Don't mistake my words of praise, Fox. I am not happy about the controversy this pregnancy is going to cause."

"But?" Theresa asked.

"But I am willing to ride it out, so to speak. Under one condition…."

"No, conditions," Fox asserted.

Alistair smiled. "Very well, then. With one request. I want you as my right hand man. I want to bring you into the fold, teach you my skills, and train you to someday be head of Crane Industries."

Fox shot a look back at Ethan. "That is a _very_ interesting request, Grandfather."

"Do you accept?"

"I'll have to let you know after I talk things over with Resa."

"Don't take too long," Alistair cautioned. "You've passed one test, but there are many others that await you."

With that, the sturdy older man pulled another cigar from his jacket pocket, lit it up, and made his exit from the dining room.

"Wow. There's nothing like a warning to inspire confidence," Fox said glibly.

"And there's nothing like deceit to inspire nausea," Ivy replied. "Surely, none of you believes that I would be capable of attempted murder. I mean, the notion is completely preposterous!"

Julian quickly pushed his chair back and walked to where his ex-wife sat, towering over the slight woman in her wheelchair. "I'm half tempted to take care of you myself, but I won't dirty my hands with you, Ivy. Instead, we'll see just how 'preposterous' Chief Bennett thinks this is," Julian spat.

Ivy's blue eyes widened. "You can't be serious!"

"Why not, Ivy?" Theresa asked. "I have proof."

"Obviously, the tape is _doctored_! Ethan, you believe me, don't you?"

Ethan's steely gaze on his mother was cold. He walked from the room, finding solitude necessary to gather his bearings.

Ivy swallowed hard and looked to her second son. "Fox, you believe your mother, don't you?"

"The way you've believed in me? I should only return the favor. In fact, I'll be more than happy to dial the police station myself."

Tears welled up in Ivy's eyes, yet she held her chin high, determined that she would not lose her composure in the den of vipers. "I know I've not been the best mother. I know I've hurt you, but please let me make it up to you."

"There is no making this up to me. To be perfectly blunt, I don't even _want_ to be your son anymore. I always knew you were cold, but framing someone to take the rap for a crime you committed and using that person's love against her—just like you're trying to use our so-called mother/son relationship right now for your own gain—is despicable."

The tears she'd fought so hard to control finally spilled over Ivy's cheeks. "Please! I'm _begging_ you. If I could get on my hands and knees, I would."

Julian nearly snorted. "You? Humbling yourself, Ivy? How original."

Ivy glared at her ex-husband. "How dare you portray yourself as an innocent victim? You were _alive_, hiding out, just waiting for Theresa to be executed! You were willing to let her die, as well!"

"That was when I thought she was the one who killed me—er, tried to kill me."

Ivy bit her top lip. "This is insane. I'm going up to my room. All of this nonsense has given me a splitting headache."

Calmly and authoritatively, Theresa spoke. "Do go up to your room, Ivy, and start packing."

"You aren't the mistress of this mansion anymore, Theresa. Your marriage to Julian was a sham. He knows it, I know it, and Alistair knows it."

"Says the woman who stayed in a loveless marriage for how long? Twenty-five years was it?" Theresa looked to Fox and Julian. "I know both of you would like to see Ivy in prison, but I believe I've found something more fitting. Do you trust me?"

"Of course," Fox said without hesitation.

Julian shuffled his feet. "Well, I…"

"Do you really think I would let her get away with this scot-free?"

"Do what you wish," Julian finally conceded.

"Pack your bags for a warm locale," Theresa instructed her nemesis.

"Where?" Ivy asked glumly. "Hell?"

"Not quite that hot," Theresa replied, "but almost."

"I'll get you for this, Theresa."

Theresa rolled her eyes. "Oh, Ivy. I'm only doing what any good mother would do. Isn't that the excuse you've used time and time again? My child is so important to me. I can't have him or her being embarrassed by what his grandmother has done."

"How can you be so malicious? I didn't think that even _you_ could stoop this low."

"I learned from the best, Ivy. You taught me everything I know."

"This isn't over, Theresa."

"Yes, it is. Now, do as I say, or you'll be gift wrapped for Big Bertha as her prison plaything. Do we understand one another?"

Ivy said nothing as she glared at her adversary. Disbelief washed over her. How was this possible? She lost….to _Theresa_…this she-demon who looked so innocent, a look which beguiled her true nature.

No, this wasn't a loss. It was a setback. Ivy would do as she was asked _for now_, but that was only temporary. There had to be some way out. Some way…..

"Oh, yes, Theresa. I understand you," Ivy replied haughtily. With that, she pressed the lever on her power wheelchair forward and left the dining room.

"You really have learned Ivy's tricks, Theresa. Deceit comes second nature to you, doesn't it?" Julian commented.

Theresa's eyes narrowed as she looked at her soon-to-be-ex-husband. "I'm sorry your pride is hurt, Julian, but you and I both know that our marriage never was real. It wasn't even consummated!"

"For something that wasn't real, you sure didn't see anything wrong with playing the part of lady of the manor."

Theresa admitted, "If I had to be miserable, I figured I might as well take you right along with me."

"How generous of you to spread the misery so freely," Julian replied wryly. "Just be sure that you don't make my son miserable."

"Father, leave Theresa alone. _I_ pursued _her_, not the other way around. Though the circumstances might not have been ideal, I don't regret any of it."

Julian shrugged. "You are my son, Fox. Always had an eye for the ladies."

"Well, now it's an eye for just one lady in particular."

Theresa looked up at Fox and smiled.

"I still wish this were anyone but Theresa that you were in love with. I mean, she _is_ my wife. That should have made her off limits to you."

Fox crossed his arms. "Don't be a hypocrite. That's Ethan's department. Besides, didn't you try to seduce Theresa in Bermuda knowing that she was planning to marry Ethan—the man you thought to be your son for twenty-five years?"

"Touché."

Theresa tilted her head. "Really, Julian, I thought you would be glad to be rid of me."

"But I'm not rid of you, am I? Not when you're carrying my grandchild." Julian grimaced. "It's so _painful_ to say."

"What should we call you? Grandfather or Pa-pa?" Fox asked with a smirk.

"Maybe after a few more brandies, I won't care _what_ you call me. Just a word of advice, though. Father extended himself to you tonight. He is not a man who does something without a specific reason. He has a plan for you—something you may or may not particularly want. Do be careful."

"My eyes are wide open," Fox assured his father.

"As are mine," Julian sighed. "As are mine." With that, he walked to the service cart and poured himself another drink before walking from the room. Under his breath, Theresa could hear him muttering about becoming a grandfather.

Fox watched him go and then took Theresa's hands. "We did it, Resa. We did it!"

"The worst is over."

* * *

The worst was just beginning. Ethan thought he had lived through the most terrible, but he was wrong, something he'd been making a habit of lately.

"How did I get here?" he asked, blindly looking to the stars in the night sky from where he stood on the terrace. "The possibilities used to seem endless. When I was with her, I used to wish on stars, and I believed those wishes would come true. She made me believe. And then I wouldn't even believe in her—and it most likely cost us our child."

He felt as though his heart would burst, the weight of emotions upon him placed such an enormous burden. A sob wracked his large frame.

"Why did I distrust the one I should have trusted most and believe in the ones who only told me lies?"

"Ethan?"

The voice was so soft and one he wanted to hear so badly, Ethan considered that perhaps his ears deceived him.

Ethan would have brushed the tears from his cheeks if not for his bandaged hands. Instead, he had to face the woman he loved without the dignity he so longed to maintain.

"Theresa."

He simply said her name. What was there to say?

Nothing.

And everything.

Would anything he said matter to her? Would it bring back the trust that had been broken between them? Would it bring back their son?

Theresa had a new life now—a life that she planned to spend with his half-brother and their child.

If there truly was such a thing as fate, it was infinitely cruel. It laughed at him. Spat at him. He once held the world in his hands. Now he held nothing. Literally.

"I…I had to see you," Theresa said taking a step forward from the French doors onto the terrace.

At one point, hope would have risen within him, but Ethan knew the meeting was an ending, not a beginning.

Ethan stood still, rigid. "I have so much I want to say to you. I don't know where to begin."

"Neither do I. I've been so angry, Ethan."

"With good reason," Ethan admitted.

Theresa wrung her hands. "Perhaps, but I know I've hurt you. Even when I don't mean to hurt you, I manage to do it. I didn't tell you the truth about Bermuda when I found out, and you got blindsided by Alistair tonight."

"You tried the night of the party, didn't you?" Ethan asked.

Theresa nodded. "It wasn't the right time."

"That's been our problem, hasn't it, T? Timing."

"Among other things."

Ethan cast his eyes to the sky, lost in another place, another time. "I remember a warm July night, looking up at the stars with you in my arms. We'd just made love for the first time, and we both thought anything was possible. Those stars represented the infinite possibilities."

Theresa sighed. That part of her life was over. Revisiting it, particularly as she planned a life with Fox, didn't seem appropriate or advisable. "Ethan, please. Let's not go there."

"I'm not trying to make you feel uncomfortable, Theresa. Honestly, I'm not. I just…I just don't know how to assimilate all of this information at once. I lost a child. I discovered that my mother is a liar and criminal. You're having my half-brother's child. I just don't know _how_ to not reflect on what could have been."

"The best thing you can do for yourself and for me is to let it go. Don't let it eat you up inside. I did that for far too long. I made so many mistakes out of spite—spite toward your mother, spite 

toward Julian, even spite toward you. I nearly destroyed myself in the process. Despite everything, I don't want to see you hurting. I want to see you happy, Ethan."

"Happy?" Ethan choked back a bitter laugh. "What in the hell is happiness? The only time I've ever been truly happy was when I was with you. Now I have nothing."

"You will rebuild, just like I did. You will move on, and you'll be stronger for it. Look, I have to go. Fox is right inside waiting for me. I just wanted to check on you."

Ethan's eyes fixed upon hers. "I appreciate it."

Theresa nodded before turning on her heels and going back inside the mansion.

"Goodbye, Theresa," he whispered.

* * *

Fox was frowning when Theresa met him inside.

"How's ol' Eth?" he asked casually.

Theresa could hear the strain in her lover's voice. "Upset. Shaken. I can't fix it, and I'm done trying."

"But is Ethan done?" Fox asked quickly.

Theresa paused, reflecting on her conversation with the man she once considered to be her prince charming, the core figure of this fairy tale existence she'd created in her mind. Letting go had been so difficult for her, but she'd managed. So would Ethan.

"I think so. Now we can begin to heal."

Fox rubbed his jaw, trying to force down the hate he felt toward his half-brother and the discomfort he felt in knowing that Theresa had asked to speak to him alone. Fox disliked being excluded from the conversation, but he also knew it was important for Theresa to have that time to truly put the past behind her.

Theresa noted his expression, one that she had a difficult time reading. "What are you thinking?" she asked as she circled her arms around his waist.

Fox looked down into her dark eyes and stroked her hair. "That I'd do anything for you."

* * *

Laura Avery was a plump, middle-aged woman whose silver streaked brown hair was pulled back into a severe bun. She spoke in what Ivy thought was a sickening sweet voice.

Ivy felt ill, though she wasn't sure if it was from the company, the circumstance, or the surroundings. It had been three days since she left Harmony, nearly every moment of which had been devoted to traveling to her place of atonement, Somalia.

"It is so good of you, Ms. Winthrop…."

"That's Mrs. Crane," Ivy interrupted.

"So sorry. It is so good of you, Mrs. Crane, to volunteer as a relief aid worker. As you can see, these people live in very humble circumstances. The basic necessities of life are difficult to come by, quite a change from the life you're accustomed to."

Ivy looked around her. A group of dirty, skinny children stood together, pointing and laughing. The clothes they were hung loosely on their bodies, some of them in shambles. Flies buzzed around them, only to be swatted off.

Small, wooden shacks lined the dirt street. Raw sewage puddled in some places.

Ivy sighed. "Yes, it is."

"Here at the World Relief Organization, we try to help these people learn to achieve the necessities of life. Education is such a valuable asset."

Ivy perked up slightly. "Will I be teaching? I do know some marvelous entertaining tips. And fashion—fashion is my forte."

Mrs. Avery cleared her throat. "While you do possess _interesting_ skills, I do not think the etiquette of high society America is necessarily applicable here. Keep in mind that not only do these people live in humble circumstances, but you will live in humble circumstances yourself. I'm certain it will be an adjustment at first, but over time, you'll grow accustomed to the dirt floors in the hut and the lack of creature comforts."

No more one thousand count Egyptian cotton sheets?

No more bi-weekly facials at the spa?

No more endless supply of Dom Perignon?

"How can anyone live like this?"

"It's amazing what people can do when they have no choice." Mrs. Avery's words held a double meaning.

Ivy's eyes widened. This was no regular assignment. Theresa hadn't been kidding when she mentioned that she had arranged something special.

"And just what _will_ I be doing?"

"During the day you'll be working in the clinic de-worming the orphans and picking lice from their hair. Yes, we'll put those perfectly manicured nails to good use."

* * *

"Theresa?"

Theresa looked up from the glass of juice she'd been staring at for the last few minutes to see her sister-in-law standing next to her table in the Book Café.

"Sheridan. Please, join me."

"Aren't you expecting company?" Sheridan asked as she pulled out a chair.

"In a few minutes. Fox gets to have his caffeine fix, and I get to envy him."

Sheridan let out an audible breath. "Ethan told me, but I had a hard time believing it. I never thought you would…." Her voice trailed off as she realized that her statement would smack of presumption.

"….let Ethan go?" Theresa finished. "It's okay. You can say it."

"You've certainly stunned me in more ways than one," Sheridan acknowledged as she ran her hands through her short, blonde hair.

"I know that you and Ethan are close, so I can only imagine what he told you."

"I think you might be surprised. He was very self-deprecating. He told me that he crossed the line with you and that he broke your trust."

Theresa merely stared at Sheridan.

"Look, believe me when I say that I am not in any position to pass judgment. My own experiences with family entanglements involving your brothers have proven that. I just wanted to say that even though all of this comes as a shock to me, I will support your relationship with Fox. Obviously, he's not the same spoiled, selfish person I thought him to be."

"Why don't you say those nice things to him, then? He acts like it doesn't bother him that people expect the worst from him, but I know that it does. All he's ever needed was someone to believe in him, Sheridan."

"And you do."

"With all of my heart. I know he has a past; so do I. But I also know that the past shapes who we are and who we become. There isn't a doubt in my mind that Fox loves me and our baby."

Sheridan's eyes widened.

"You mean Ethan didn't tell you?"

Sheridan cleared her throat. "He left out that one minor detail."

"Please don't say anything to Luis. I want to tell him myself. He's going to be less than thrilled."

"That's the understatement of the year," Sheridan concurred.

"No matter. I'm done letting others dictate my life choices."

"I can't believe it. I'm going to be a great-aunt. Oh my goodness! I'm too _young_ to have a great-nephew! What about Julian? Is all of that taken care of?"

Theresa smiled. "We signed annulment papers yesterday. It's as though the marriage never took place."

"Wow. Things are changing so quickly around here!" Sheridan exclaimed.

"But they've been a long time in coming. Speaking of coming, look who's on his way," Theresa replied as she looked toward the door of the Book Café and saw Fox approaching.

"I have so much I need to say to him," Sheridan said as she sank lower in her chair. "I've been abominable to him."

"Now's your chance," Theresa responded as she stood.

Fox approached the table and placed a quick kiss on Theresa's cheek. He then looked to his aunt. "Auntie Sheridan, have you come to extol the virtues of Saint Ethan?"

"Hardly. Fox, if you have a few moments, I'd really love to talk with you," Sheridan replied softly.

"I'm going to get a juice refill," Theresa said before she made herself scarce.

Fox turned one of the wooden chairs around and staggered it with his long legs as he sat at the table with his aunt.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure of this lecture?"

Sheridan shook her head. "I'm not here to lecture you. I spoke with Ethan, and in doing so, I realized just how wrong I had been about you. I blamed you for causing his injuries, and it was unjust."

"You got it."

"I've also blamed you for other things over the years."

"I've played the role of profligate nephew with skill, Auntie."

"And I've played the role of disapproving aunt with expertise. I just don't want it to be this way between us. I thought maybe if we gave it a shot, we could get to know each other better, maybe find some things we have in common."

Fox looked to where Theresa stood at the counter. "I can tell you one thing we have in common."

"And what's that?" Sheridan asked.

"We both fell in love with Lopez-Fitzgeralds. I would do anything for her, Sheridan. Anything."

"I believe it," she replied earnestly. "And I know you've risked so much to be with her."

"Something else we have in common," Fox added. "Anything worth having is worth fighting for."

"Yes, but going against Alistair…" an involuntary shudder ran through Sheridan as she thought of her father. "….let's just say that I know how difficult that can be."

Fox lifted a brow. "Get this. Alistair was insisting that our baby be raised as my father's child. Can you believe that?"

Sheridan swallowed hard. "Yes, I can. His actions are frequently shocking, but I'm never shocked about being shocked. Does that make sense?"

"I get you."

A smile broke across Sheridan's features. "I bet my brother had a fit when Father was insisting he raise Theresa's child. How I wish I could have been a fly on the wall!"

"Knowing Grandfather, he's probably got a surveillance tape of that non-dinner party somewhere. Perhaps if you ask nicely he'll give it to you when hell freezes over."

Sheridan considered her nephew's statement. "That sounds about right."

"This is nice."

"Yeah," Sher agreed. "It is. We wasted a lot of time, you and I."

"I suppose we did. I've carried this huge chip on my shoulder for a long time," Fox divulged.

"For good reason. Why give me a chance when I never bothered to give you one? That's going to change, though. I know we don't exactly come from a closely-knit family, but I'd like us to get closer."

"I'd like that, too.'

"So how are things going, you two?" Theresa asked as she approached the nephew/aunt duo. Theresa rested her hand on Fox's shoulder.

Fox's brown eyes met Theresa's. "Well. Very well, in fact."

"We called a truce," Sheridan supplied.

A broad smile lit up Theresa's features. "I'm so glad!"

Fox looked back at his aunt. "Me too." He placed his hand over Theresa's, gently rubbing her fingers. "Well, auntie, I'm going to steal my girl away from this place. I have very special plans for her today."

"Oh you do?" Theresa asked. "This is news to me."

Fox shrugged. "You know me. Always full of surprises."

Sheridan laughed lightly. "Well, have fun, you two. But don't wait too long to talk to Luis. I don't want to keep anything from him."

"I won't Sheridan. Promise," Theresa assured.

* * *

"Almost there," Fox said holding Theresa's hand as the two walked along the picturesque cliffs overlooking the ocean. It was a clear day, with the exception of an occasional fluffy cloud or two. The salt water took on the color of the azure sky, while the waves crested against the rock to form white foam and mesmerizing sounds.

Theresa smiled. Fox had been completely tight-lipped as they drove the seven miles outside of Harmony along the Atlantic coast, refusing to answer any of her questions about what he was planning, except to reiterate that it was a surprise.

"You have your special places, and I have mine," he had told her in the vehicle.

The air, unusually mild for the time of year, provided a salty and sweet mixture of aromas. "This place is beautiful," Theresa sighed, noting the contrast of the blue ocean and the evergreen trees.

"I'm glad you like it."

They walked around a bend of trees along the rocky paths, and Theresa was taken aback by what she saw. In the clearing, parallel to the cliff, was a dining room table, elaborately set.

"Ooooh, you're surprising me with lunch!" Theresa assumed aloud giddily.

"Not exactly," Fox replied coyly.

Theresa poked at his ribs. "You are _killing_ me! If you aren't surprising me with lunch, then what are you doing with a table and chairs there?"

"I wanted you to try them out," Fox said leading her to the setting. He pulled a chair back for her and waited for her to sit. She did so hesitantly. Fox then sat in the chair next to hers overlooking the water.

"So, how do you like the view?" he asked.

"You already know that I think it's beautiful."

"Good. So you wouldn't mind eating here every day?"

Theresa giggled. "Well, if you're wanting me to eat seaweed and pine needles, I might."

"No danger there. I wanted you to try this out because _this_ is where the dining room is going to be."

"Excuse me?"

"In our new house. I bought this land yesterday, though I've been designing a house with it in mind."

Theresa's jaw dropped. "Wh-what? Did I hear you right?"

"You heard me. I'm building a home. For us. For our baby."

"Oh Fox!" She practically leapt from her chair and threw her arms around him.

He stood, holding her waist. "Theresa, do you remember when we were lying next to the pool?"

Theresa's skin felt warm. Did he even have to ask? Of course she remembered! She remembered every touch, every sensation.

"Oh, you know I do!"

"I told you that I wanted you to be my family…and when you were free, I had a question I wanted to ask you." He dropped to one knee.

Tears of happiness shimmered in Theresa's eyes. She felt such love for Fox, and she felt _loved_.

"There's an old saying. Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer."

Through her tears, Theresa laughed. They had come so far. From disdain to lust to love, their relationship had grown by leaps and bounds.

"You aren't my enemy anymore. You haven't been for quite some time, but I can't help but want to be close. Sometimes, I feel like I can't get close enough. It's as though I want to be consumed by you…by this amazing spirit you exude.

"I love you, Fox."

Fox's brown eyes earnestly fixed upon hers. "I love you, too, Resa, and that is why I am desperate to ask you a certain question. Theresa Lopez-Fitzgerald, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Please say you'll marry me."

"Yes, Fox! I'll marry you! In a heartbeat!"

A broad grin filled Fox's features as he scooped Theresa into his arms, feeling the need to be as close as possible to her. "You said yes?"

She nodded gleefully.

"You said YES!"

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" Theresa repeated.

He captured her lips with a kiss. It was soft at first but quickly gained an intensity that threatened to envelop them both.

Fox, pulled away looking rather pleased with himself, and teased, "So you're finally going to make an honest man out of me."

Theresa touched the cleft of his chin and arched an eyebrow. "Mmmmhmmmm. I sure am. As soon as possible. In the meantime, I'm going to corrupt you for as long as I can. Now you've shown me the location of the dining room." With a twinkle in her eye and laughter in her heart, she added, "Any plans to show me the location of our bedroom?"

THE END


End file.
